The Moon And The Sun
by Rashaka
Summary: A collection of drabbles featuring Katara, Zuko, and sometimes KataraZuko. Tone and theme will vary from humor to drama. #48 - Tea & Sympathy
1. First And Last

In my happy little mental universe where the happy venturing trio has become a somewhat-happy venturing quartet...

* * *

**First and Last **

Their first kiss was awkward: a fumbling mixture of hands and lips from a boy who'd never kissed anyone and a girl who wasn't entirely sure she wanted to be kissed.

Their first night was lonely: just two kids (what makes a grown up?) wanting something to cling to when every thing they dreamed and fought seemed out of their reach.

Their first children were girls: water and fire staring out from the same face.

Their first victory was a peace accord signed by Bumi himself, with Ozai dying slowly in the next room.

Their last words held no regrets.


	2. Never Talk To A Lady That Way

Humor. Same imaginary future AU where Zuko's travelling with the Avatar. Future drabbles won't be, though.

* * *

**Never Talk To A Lady That Way**

"Look at what you did! Now where are we going to camp?"

"It's hardly my fault you turned the ground to mud!"

"You startled me!"

"You shouldn't have been practicing here!"

"It's where I always practice!"

"So go farther away!"

"I'm not one of your lackeys! I don't take orders from you!"

"Maybe you should!"

"I'd rather swallow nails!"

"Hate to know what else you've swallowed."

"…You're dead. You're dead, and on top of that you're never allowed to touch me again."

"Wait Katara, I didn't mean it! You know I---"

Water rises, and Zuko's never heard from again.


	3. Game On

Warning: SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 20

* * *

**Game On**

"Aren't you a big girl now?"

That _voice_. The voice that hounded their footsteps and infected her dreams. She'd had this very nightmare before: Aang helpless, Sokka gone. Just herself and Prince Zuko and nothing but her to stand in his way.

Just like the dream, just like every time before, Zuko faced them now with fire in his eyes.

Katara stepped away from Yue and cleared her mind.

He might be a firebender and he might have chased them once, but she was no longer the girl tied to the post and the boy in front of her was far from proud these days.

He was just a boy, and she'd gotten good at beating up boys.


	4. Changes In Latitudes, Changes In Attitud

**Warning:** SPOILERS FOR **EPISODE 20.**

* * *

**Changes In Latitudes, Changes In Attitudes**

Zuko's unconscious body was slumped next to her as they rode Appa back to the city, and Katara didn't know how she felt about that. She wasn't entirelycertain she was comfortable with this latest act of charity from Aang.

That moment when the prince had stood over her with Aang's form tucked under one arm and arrogantly compared himself to the sun—Katara hated him for that moment. He was taking away their hope and her friend and—and—maybe he _deserved_ to die on the tundra.

Katara watched the rise and fall of his chest speculatively.

He was _evil_ after all. Just as evil as Zhoa. He didn't deserve their help.

But…Katara also wasn't entirely sure that he deserved to die alone.

He had, after all, been the first real fight she'd had since challenging Pakku.

Maybe he could be of use to them? Maybe if they kept him captive then he could teach Aang to firebend? Maybe they could convince him the war wasn't worth it and he could convince his father—

That's it, she told herself, now you're just reaching. Pointless over-speculation. Speculation could lead to dangerous hesitations in the future, and that was something no one wanted.

But you had to understand:

Zuko's unconscious body was lying next to her and Katara didn't know how she felt about that.


	5. Jude

**Jude**

The morning was breezy and calm, but clouds gathered on the horizon. Soon the heavens above the ship would darken, and the atmosphere would begin to swirl and boil. Pressure and gravity would battle for dominance and the seas would rise to meet them.

Winds would lance through the air and torrents would pour from the blackened sky in great sheets of vengeful rain and hail. The deluge would sweep over everything as lightning knifed across the sky struck down any hope of an end to the tempestuous—

"Hey Zuko."

"What!"

"Don't make it bad. Take a sad song, and make it—"

"Fuck you!"


	6. Good Things, Small Packages

**Good Things, Small Packages**

There was one adventure had in the first months of the Avatar's journey that did not go down in the history books. It was an embarrassment for all parties involved, and they collectively decided never to speak of it again. But while the world never knew, deep in their hearts they knew. Oh they _knew._

"Now, repeat it back to me," Sokka said cajolingly, crouching on his haunches in front of Katara, who at this moment was two years old. Again.

Stupid travelling magicians with their stupid practical joke spells.

"Water pwretty. Fire bad."

"Yes! Perfect."

"But fire pwre--"

"Ah! What did we just learn?"

"But--"

"Ah-ah-ah!"

"But--"

"Ah!"

Little Katara sighed. "Water pwretty. Fire bad."

"That's right, Katara. You just keep that in mind forever now, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good girl!"

Later that day, in the middle Zuko's obligatory attempt to beat up and capture Aang...

A piping young voice squealed with delight just as a heavy weight attached itself to Zuko's leg. The Prince stopped his standard angry rant to look down at... a little water tribe_ thing_ sitting on his _foot_. Her big, blue, toddler eyes stared up at his flaming hands in fascination.

"Fire pwretty!"

"WHAT IS THAT _THING_ DOING ON MY LEG?"

"Fire pwretty!"

"KATARA!" Sokka shouted, mortified. "WATER PRETTY, FIRE BAD! REMEMBER! WATER PRETTY, _FIRE BAD!"_

"Fire pwretty!"

"GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!"


	7. Foreplay

**Foreplay**

She kicked out from beneath as he struck, her smaller frame finally serving her needs, and he crashed to the ground as she rolled on top of him, bending as she went.

Ice locked him spread-eagled to the frozen grass, and she leaned down to breathe a cool gust onto his face.

On his chest she sat, thighs hugging his ribs and one arm on either side of his head. He could count the strands falling from her braid, and the number of breaths she took that he shared.

"Your hands have melted free," she noted.

"Probably," he replied, not breaking their little staring contest.

"You aren't moving," she added.

"But I'm still winning," he said.


	8. Just Another Regret

A while ago someone on LJ posted a Zuko/Katara fanmix with the song "Dirty Little Secret" by All American Rejects. At first I scoffed at the idea that song so cheesy and so blatantly _pop_ would really be applicable to Avatar characters. But, you know, listen to something on your iPod long enough, and every once in a while remember where you got the song... and soon enough it _becomes_ Zuko/Katara in your head anyway, though you may might fight it fiercely! As it so happens, I listened to this song quite a lot while Christmas shopping tonight, and... :cough: Anyway, LJ shipper whose name I can't remember, this drabble's for you.

* * *

**Just Another Regret**

_Come on, come with me._

_Does this mean we have our own little secret?_

They stumbled into the clearing halfway between the shore and the camp, giggling and trying to hush their laughter. Hands pulled hurriedly and clothes fell and everything was quick and strange and wonderfully new. The brush was tall and soft, muffling whispers and kisses and—

_Hey, that tickles—_

_I love your skin—_

_Do that again—_

_Who has to know?_

—and everything seemed perfect until he woke to see her crying and pushing her arms through her sleeves saying, "This is a game I don't wanna play."


	9. All Boys Think Alike

Okay guys. The last two were serious, so here's a cotton candy one. Dialogue inspired by the someone's observation that "sometimes Sokka and Zuko are like the same person."

**warnings:** none  
theavatar100 **challenge:** #21, justification – a more humorous take  
**wordcount:** 90  
**setting:** after Zuko joins the trio.  
**summary:** ...if he stole her a boat she might make out with him. Z/K-lite.

* * *

**All Boys Think Alike**

"The Av--Aang said we'll be in this town a few days at least. I was thinking, perhaps...do you want to... do an activity together?"

Katara blinked. "Do an...activity?"

"Yes, an activity!" Zuko snapped.

Katara blinked.

"We could explore the market, or commandeer a boat or something. An activity!"

Katara blinked again, this time for a different reason. "You can commandeer boats?"

"I am the prince."

"But you're exiled now, so isn't that...stealing?"

Moment of truth for Zuko: princes are above petty theft, but then again...

"Stealing _is_ an activity."


	10. The Very Secret Diary of Prince Zuko

This drabble was inspired and heavily patterned after _The Very Secret Diaries of Aragorn, Son of Arathorn_ by Cassie Claire.

* * *

**The Very Secret Diary of Prince Zuko of The Fire Nation**

**Day 1  
**Got banished.  
Cheek hurts.  
Still not king.

**Day 2  
**Cheek still hurts.  
Ocean is v. flat.  
Will be hard to become king if stuck out here.

**Day 17  
**Father's a jerk.  
Cheek hurts less.  
Not king today either.

**Day 452  
**Learning to play sungi horn.  
Do not see how this will help me become king, but ocean is v. boring.

**Day 794**  
Seal meat tastes like chicken.  
Discovered the Avatar!  
But still not king.

**Day 795  
**Avatar got away.  
Shall commence with chasing him.  
Am v. unhappy about stillnotbeing king yet.

**Day 811**  
Avatar got away again.  
When am king, will employ massive F.N. Navy to eliminate pirates. All of them.

**Day 848  
**Still chasing Avatar.  
Still not king.

**Day 877  
**Still not king, dammit.  
Chances for kingship looking grim.  
Frostbite's a bitch.  
Plus side: Zhoa dead!

note to self: be nicer to koi fish


	11. Blackheart

**Word Count:** 127  
**Warning:** morbid. macabre. mort.  
**theavatar100, challenge #12** : au/reality/timeline  
**Soundtrack:** "Black Black Heart" by David Usher. _Covers lie and we will bend and borrow..._

* * *

**Blackheart**

* * *

Fire lanced at her, and it was all she could do to keep her clothes from burning up. This battle was for the freedom of the water tribes. This battle was for Aang. This battle was for her brother. It was for a thousand lost things she could never replace.

"I liked kissing you."

And just for a moment, Zuko's attention was thrown.

For just a moment, his mind went back to the beach, to the lies and the mistaken hopes and the Blue Spirit.

For just a moment, he wasn't the heir-apparent to the Fire Nation—he was the boy who took off his mask to kiss a girl.

But a moment was enough for Katara to dodge, pounce, and send an icicle through his heart.


	12. The Gift of the Magi

**The Gift of the Magi **

"I brought you something," he muttered, quickly and under his breath. "You don't have to keep it or like it or anything, but I was with my uncle in the market and I thought you could maybe use it."

He held out his offering and the girl took it gingerly, running her fingers over the shape and feel of it.

"It's to replace your water gourd," Zuko said, disturbed by her silence. "I noticed how small it was. This one's half again as large. It's sealed for water carriage of course, and the leather is Jaijenga hide. It doesn't burn, or freeze. Provided you don't throw it into a pit of lava like you did my helmut, it should last at least fifteen years. Sixteen. Sixteen maybe."

The lack of words was beginning to make him downright uncomfortable. He knew he'd surprised her with the gift; you won't supposed to get gifts for the girl you were seeing in secret. It was against the rules, and they needed rules--- they needed them desperately. Some guideline to keep them from forgetting that he was who he was, and she was who she was.

But she didn't have to stand there like it was the end of the fucking world. It was just a---

Katara threw her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, and all rational thought fled the prince as she kissed him.

"I love it. I love it. It's perfect."

* * *

There.

Fluff! Fully equipped with shamelessly schmoopy title.

I was thinking about it, and at some point I'm probably going to do a prequel drabble to the previous chapter. Cause now I've got this image in my head of the Blue Spirit ona beach.


	13. Destiny

**Destiny**

The prince shook his head. "You enjoy being a warrior now, but that'll change. You'll marry some hapless but charming soldier. Maybe a farmer. The two of you will have a pile of babies, and fighting with the Avatar will be a distant memory."

"No," Katara said softly, and her eyes glowed azure as she stared into the firelight. "When I get married, he'll be a powerful bender, and he'll never ask me to be anything less."

The camp was quiet but for their whispered discussion, voices swallowed by the forest night. Prince Zuko added another log to the fire, his gaze never leaving her face.


	14. Between

**Between**

****

They'd been travelling as a quartet for two months, and in that time all the animosity in Katara and Zuko's eyes had bled into something else.

It lingered in the movements of their early morning sparring practices, a habit Katara only started because Zuko said she didn't have the constitution for it.

It was loud in the silence of a huddled campfire, where they didn't dare to sit beside each other for fear their knees might touch.

It hung in the air around them in the darkness of the prison cell, and in the air between them when he lifted her waist to toss her shrieking into the lake where the others splashed and played.

After a time it was as if it'd always been there, in the brushes of shoulders and the carefulness of stares.


	15. Breathe

Quote used is from the song "Glass Vase Cello Case" by Tattle Tale.

**

* * *

**

_"breathe into my hands, I'll cup them like a glass to drink from"_

**

* * *

**

**Breathe**

She breathes, and he lifts his hand to touch her cheek, the corner of her lips, the softness of her neck.

How do you know? he asks, his breath as short and low as hers.

Her cheek tilts into his hand, and she traces his lips in turn. Against his skin her fingers seem delicate, the fingers of a girl who'd never held fire in her palms.

I just know, she says, and they breathe the same air with every inch closer.

There is a certain distance from which you can no longer see a person's frowns or smiles or scars. Katara stands so close that the gold of his eyes is all she sees, and when he smiles she feels it in his gaze.

Will you show me? he asks.

She leans to take his lips with hers, and the candles flicker into darkness.


	16. The Sun Came Up With No Conclusions

This scene was originally conceived in the "Our Cartography" ficverse, but only vaguely. Very early in writing it I realized that it'd _never_ fit with that story, because the confrontation doesn't mesh with where I plan to take the characters. They've got bigger, more soap-opera-y confrontations in their destiny!

So instead I decided to treat it like an "Our Cartography" AU, and write from there. The result is this little flashfic. Very very first drafty, and likely to stay that way.

* * *

**The Sun Came Up With No Conclusions / Alternate Cartography Moment**

Katara ran her hands through her hair, pressing her palms to her forehead, wanting to keep every insane thought locked in by pressure alone. The prince stood in front of her, shoulders heaving, looking like he wanted to bite her head off. Katara dragged her hands from her face and sighed, meeting his furiousexpression while trying not to slip in anger herself.

"You're so intense sometimes, it frightens me," she admitted. "How can you live like this? How can you go day to day being so angry? You don't just despise me or Cerlo, you despise your ship and your crew and your father and your country--"

"I love my country, and I love my father!" he snarled, hand slicing through the air as if to cut down her words before the reached him. "Everything I do is to try and get them back!"

Katara's frame bunched up, tighter than a bowstring, and she snapped, "Now who's lying to themselves! You say you love your country but then why would you have so much rage for it? You can't even stand to talk about it in conversation. I've been with you for over a month and you haven't said a word to me about the Fire Nation, or about the Fire Lord! You can't bear the thought of them!"

"Because they threw me away!" The scream ripped out of his throat to fill the tiny room, its sound and weight banging from wall to wall like a living monstrosity. Then it died, and there was only Zuko before her, shoulders shaking and eyes wild.

"And you hate them for it," she concluded, voice falling again. "You hate your father for it, so much that you tell yourself you want his love because the idea of actually hating your father and your Lord frightens you like nothing else. Meanwhile you sit around on a ship full of men who barely respect you and hunt down a child you don't even really care about. You're so angry it's almost bleeding out of you."

Suddenly looking at her was too much for Zuko, and he turned away. Then he turned right back again, and retorted "Why shouldn't I be angry? Look at my life! Maybe you're right, maybe it's exactly like you said. Why shouldn't I be furious. I'm miserable! Why should I pretend to be anything else?"

"Because you don't have to be miserable, you twit! You don't have to be so angry!"

"Anger gives me strength," he said, stepping up till he was almost nose to nose with this impertinent little girl who thought she could read him, pull his strings like a harp. Who had the audacity to think she _knew_ him after a month of forced companionship. "Anger pushes me forward and it keeps me alive when others would've died. It keeps me focused where others allow themselves to give up. Until I regain what I've lost, anger is all that I have."

She lifted her chin to stare in return, not moving back an inch. His gaze flickered over her face and down her body, then up to her eyes again. The look was callous, dismissive. "You may sleep better at night than I do, Katara, but you're a joke when it comes to giving advice about how to live life. You've never wanted _anything_ as badly as I want to go home, and that's why you'll never win. Victory doesn't go to those who deserve it, it goes to the one who wants it the most."

He shouldn't be standing so close to her, because his voice had dropped somewhere along the line and he realized he was almost whispering now. Her eyes, blue and mirrored, looked entirely different from this close, as if he'd never seen them before. He didn't dare to blink and lose their reflection.

"In the long run, you've already lost."

Before he realized the danger he was in his body had already carried him forward to grab her hips. Instantly arms circled his neck and her lips were pulling at his own. It wasn't what he'd meant to happen _(he'd never meant to notice at her at all)_ but now it was and he wasn't sorry. Her hands were hot where his neck met his shoulders, and he could feel where every angle of her body now pressed against his own. Katara pulled away from the kiss to breathe but he recaptured her mouth a second later, unwilling to let her have a moment to rethink what they were doing. If they thought about it they'd stop and Zuko couldn't imagine a worse thing to do. He brought his hands up to cup her cheeks like a lover and pushed her backward, up against the wall. She moaned and he thought of how much better this was than arguing. It was like fighting with her, but there was no pain, only heat and contact.

"Zuko," she gasped in between kisses.

"Don't talk yet," he murmured, buzzing all over with her touch.

* * *

And that's that. As an apology for taking so long in my updating process (maybe over Spring Break?) and as a 'thank you' for the reviews I've gotten so far.

Once I decided it wasn't going to be used in OurC, I just ran with it. For shits and giggles. End result: Zuko's motivations are all out of whack from what we actually know about him, and Katara apparently found a psychoanalysis book in Cerlo's collection. :laugh: Character redemption through Freud! It could work.

And then I just ran with it some more, for the sake of practicing kissing writing. Like a prose exercise. "Road to Joy" by Bright Eyes (his only song I like) came on in the background about two-thirds into this fic, and dear Lincoln I think it shows. _My mind races with all my longings / But can't keep up with what I got._ Angst, Zuko, angst! You too Katara, angst away!


	17. Sometimes You Have To Spell It Out

Another ficlet, this time with no real context. Set it the future at some point.

Warning: TOTAL FLUFF beyond this point. I don't apologize for fluff. Except when I do. Like now.

* * *

**Sometimes You Have To Spell It Out**

Months have passed. Friends have been made and lost, and battles fought. The comet has come and gone, and now the capital city of the Fire Nation prepares to celebrate the coronation of the new Fire Lord. War is done, and old soldiers are finding their ways back home. In the great palace of the royal family, in a small room in the southern wing, the Fire-Lord-to-be is having a discussion with one of his former compatriots before she leaves to return to her homeland.

The conversation has turned in a surprising direction, to say the least.

"Wait, you _like_ me?" he sputtered, "What do you mean you like me?"

"I mean that I spend a lot of time staring at you, and I want to kiss you and play with your hair and tell stupid jokes and have you laugh because they came from me. I like you!" Katara ducked her eyes. "And now I'm really embarassed so I'm just going to, um, head back to the Water Tribe. Just didn't want to be a chicken and leave without saying it."

Zuko gaped at her retreating back, mind still caught up on 'I want to kiss you.' She wanted to kiss him? She _liked_ him? But she'd never said anything! He'd even nursed a secret sort of attraction to her after a few weeks of travelling on Appa, but he'd ignored it and then forgot it because she barely looked in his direction if she could help it. And after a while she'd treated him like her brother or Aang, just one more obnoxious sibling to keep an eye on. And all this time she liked him?

The door clicked shut down the hallway, and Zuko panicked. He dashed out the door and down the corridoor, through the next doorway and around a corner, where he dodged around her body and then slammed into a halt, hands out and touching the walls.

"You're blocking me," she said stupidly.

"Yes," he agreed.

"Oh."

"I thought about what you said. About how you like me."

Katara blushed, "Look, I didn't tell you because I wanted anything. I know you don't see me that w--mphh!" She suddenly had difficulty speaking, on account of Zuko kissing her. A second late she stopped trying and settled in to enjoy the feeling.

"Katara," Zuko said, pulling his lips from hers but resting forehead to forehead. "I _like_ stupid jokes. And I'll let you play with my hair if I can play with yours."

"Okay." She replied, eyes still closed and head reeling from the kiss. "That sounds fair."


	18. High Fidelity

**Challenge #40:** cringeworthy  
**Wordcount:** 429  
**Warnings:** faint Zutara pairing... um... cringeworthy?  
**Characters:** Zuko, Sokka  
**Rating:** Teen, for some graphic descriptions

:some vague point a few years in the future:

* * *

**High Fidelity**

* * *

"Zuko, my _sister_ is not someone you can trifle with. If you ever--"

"Yes, yes. If I break her heart you'll hunt me down and make me regret it. I had a little sister once too."

"No."

"What?"

"No, that's not how it will happen. Of course, if you hurt her physically-- if you lizard-eyed men like to beat your wives--then _of course_ I'll hunt you down and kill you."

"Isn't that what I just said? I thought you were actually going somewhere interesting with this conversation."

Sokka smiled. It wasn't a handsome smile.

"That's _if_ you hurt her physically. If you break her _heart_... well, our people have special customs for men who are unfaithful."

He pulled his boomerang from his belt and set it across his lap, then began polishing it with a cloth and stone. "It begins with a ceremony. I take her hunting, and we find a sacrificial animal. Any mammal will do, but seals are best for carving. Then we kill it and clean it and set its meat aside to be cured and given to the widows of the village. As we clean it, we take one of the seal's bones and set it aside.

"I, being her closest male relative, will carveone of its bonesinto a dagger, the design and dimension according to her wishes. Then I will present her with the dagger in a wine ceremony, and she will pick two others besides myself to be her companions. The three chosen warriors and the wronged woman will then hunt down the betrayer. It may take a few hours, it may take months. But we _will _find you, wherever you hide yourself and no matter how many guards defend you."

Though all his instincts screamed at him to walk away from this conversation, Zuko was frozen in place. He hung on the other man's words with a sickened fascination.

"And when we find you," Sokka continued, "we will tie your arms and your legs and we will string you up like a side of steaming whale flesh. Once you are well-strung and at our mercy, Katara will cut your clothes from your body, so that you hang naked and weakened before the woman you have betrayed. Then she will cut off your testicles. This part of the ceremony may take a considerable amount of time. When it is done she will wrap your testicles in cloth and ribbon, and personally deliver them to your closest female relation, so that all your family will know the disgrace you have brought upon yourself."

Sokka slid the sharpening stone along the weapon's bladed edge. "Water tribe men are _very_ faithful, Prince Zuko."


	19. Slide Down My Razor Blade

This was inspired by muffytaj and her sexy Z/K drabbles. The fandom needs more crazy fighting hotness in its Z/K fics, and she sets a fan-fucking-tastic example.

* * *

**Slide Down My Razor Blade**

Katara smacked him with a whip edged in ice. "What," she snarled, "do you want?"

Zuko tilted his head, and slowly adjusted his jaw. Still worked.

"Well," he replied, "Maybe I just felt like beating on someone weaker than me." Before Katara could move, before she'd even seen him fall into a stance, his foot slammed into the side of her knees. She crumpled like a leaf-paper castle.

Zuko was on her in seconds, hands going for her wrists. His forehead avalanched into hers, and Katara saw stars.

"Weak," he sneered. "And slow. And—"

It was about then that Katara's legs wrapped around his middle and threw him over and beneath her.

"Weak?" she snapped, dismissal dripping from her tongue. Her legs still crushed his waist: two hot slabs of flesh bracing his hips, and—resting against his stomach—that part of her he suddenly could not stop thinking about. "_Weak?_ Look who's on top, assho—"

It was about then that Zuko pulled her down and kissed her.

It wasn't the brightest idea, and she'd probably stab an icicle in his neck any second now, but it made her legs squeeze even tighter around him and at the moment that seemed just as good as anything else he'd tried.

Better, in fact.

* * *

...is that not the best title pun ever? I feel so evil. :wicked laugh: 


	20. Dialogue

I'm going to open myself up to requests. I don't promise that I'll actually answer your request, but hopefully I'll get to some of them, and it will definitely get the mental butter churning.

* * *

And now, for some light-hearted-ness... 

**Zuko & Katara, In Script Form**

ZUKO  
What the _hell _are _you _doing in a tunnel underneath Omashu?

KATARA  
What the _hell_ happened to _you?_

ZUKO  
Shut your mouth, peasant! It's none of your concern!

KATARA  
You're calling me a peasant when you smell like that?

ZUKO  
You don't smell any better.

KATARA  
Yes I do. I definitely do. You smell like chocobo droppings.

ZUKO  
Just shut up. You need a bath just as much as I do, bitch. You smell like day-old sweat and grease and cherries and wet dog. You look like a wet dog too.

KATARA  
I don't believe you.

ZUKO  
Of course not, you're used to it.

KATARA  
No, I mean, I can't believe what you just said to me.

ZUKO  
Which part do you need me to repeat for your feeble little brain?

KATARA  
The part where you said I smell like cherries.


	21. I Hold With Those Who Favour Fire

**Title:** I Hold With Those Who Favour Fire  
**Rating:** Teen  
**Warnings:** future, end of war speculation  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Notes:** Written for **vickiso**'s manip-inspired drabble challenge.  
**Summary:** "Everything has its time, and everything dies."

* * *

------ 

The palace of his birth was burning.

_It's like my childhood nightmares_, he thought, _but necessary_.

Beside him, the girl he imagined he might love one day stood with despairing eyes.

_It's beautiful_, she thought, _but sad_.

Winds from the harbor fed the chemical reaction of heat when allowed to gorge on history and power. As the conflagration climbed higher servants and soldiers spilled from the burning miasma into the streets, screaming about death and glory, about death and war, but mostly about death and fear.

He reached to hold her hand, and together they watched it burn.


	22. Off

**Off**

He disliked her. His dislike for her was brighter and hotter than the sun at high noon. He disliked her whining voice and he disliked her self-righteous attitude. He disliked the archaic, barbaric way she did her hair and, quite often, he actually found himself disliking the shape of her face.

During the day he stared at her a lot and imagined ways he could push her off the bison.

"You're always watching me," she said, pulling him out of his daydreams of annoying-girl-i-cide. "It's creepy and makes me want to push you off of Appa."

"I don't like you," he explained. "I was contemplating the ways to shut you up the next time you started your mindless drivel."

"I'm sure intelligent thought always sounds like drivel to you, given what a pathetically slow learner you are."

"And yet, I'm still worlds better educated than you'll ever be in your short, sure-to-be-miserable life. Maybe the best way to shut you up would be to give you a book and watch you try and fail to figure out how to read it."

"I'm not illiterate you pathetic—"

"Katara," a voice shouted from the front, "if Burnt Face is annoying you, you have my vote to push him overboard."

"But not until we're over water," a more magnanimous voice countered.

"Yeah, I'm sure Katara wants to see him all wet," a third voice piped up, snide as ever a lord's daughter could be. "You know Zuko, that probably _would _shut her up."

Someone smacked someone else's arm, and "Don't talk about my sister like that! Also, _gross_. Katara, you're not allowed to see Burnt-Face wet. Ever. Don't even think about it."

Silence lingered for a while as everyone imagined that quite clearly, and the prince smirked at the rising color of her cheeks; she _was_ thinking of it. In fact she refused to even look at him anymore, eyes cast resolutely on the landscape below. The little blind brat was right—just a mention and she'd up faster than a clam. He toyed with the idea of taunting her the next time he bathed. Instead of steaming away the excess water he'd walk back to camp with the damp clinging to his tunic, and stand beside her to see how uncomfortable she'd be.

But then again, he disliked her, and if he was standing that close he might catch something. The scheme was pushed to the back of his mind with a determined dismissal, though to his annoyance it didn't completely disappear.

He could always save it for a day when he really hated her.


	23. The Chase

**The Chase**

When Katara finally fell to sleep with Toph and Sokka on either side, it was the deepest sleep she'd had in weeks. Exhaustion mingled with stress to press upon her consciousness, and from sleep she fell to dreaming.

She dreamed of Aang in the wrecked house, only this time Katara wasn't fast enough and Aang was burned alive by that monster that called herself a princess. He burned and as he burned he screamed and Katara was always always a moment too late.

She dreamed of a Toph who was sweet and kind, who looked up to Katara. Together they'd tease Sokka and sometimes Aang, and it became like having a friend and a sister all wrapped up in a pretty package. They could fight side by side to protect the Avatar, and they never pointed fingers or made each other cry.

She dreamed of Zuko exactly as he was: a broken boy hunched over the body of a dying loved one, thinking of all the things he could've done and all the things he never said. In these dreams it was not Zuko that changed, it was herself. She dreamed that she had been braver. Brave enough to push Zuko aside and rest healing hands and healing water on the chest of her former enemy. The others held back the raging prince while Katara gave him the greatest gift he'd ever been given, and when it was all over he was calm again, so calm that he looked into her eyes and thanked her, but she didn't recognize his voice.

* * *

Well, that's one of my least favorite drabbles I've done. I was going to fix it, but after staring at it for a long time I decided it was unfixable and I was just going to post it as is, then never think about it again. 


	24. Inroads

Season 2 has really affected my attempts at Zuko characterization. Some things I'd guessed have turned out to be right (for example, he's not so much whiny or foolish as he is simply in a near constant state of aggravation and that makes him irritable in most of the scenes in season 1, and well, at least until the more recent episodes) and others had turned out wrong (he's a lot less snarky than I'd expected now he'd be once off the ship, and has a directness and dryness that I'm rapidly becoming attached to. Season 2 Zuko is very very dry, probably due in part to his broodyness.) As we get more episodes like "The Cave of the Two Lovers" and "Zuko Alone", I've been playing around with his characterization in my drabbles, trying to figure out what sounds right. This little bit is another approach along those lines.

* * *

**Inroads**

In person, Zuko was quieter than she ever imagined he'd be. Whether it was his nature or his grief was a question Katara couldn't answer, but she found herself believing that whichever it had once been was irrelevent; silence had _become_ his nature.

It was not that Zuko refused to speak or that he was any more able to rise above Sokka's jabs than the rest of them; it was simply the fact that he never started conversations. Left to his own, with no outside pressure demanding communication, any request that couldn't be given in gesture was meted out in brief, functional statements that displayed as little personal inclination toward talking as could be displayed without being downright rude (also surprisingly, Zuko was rarely downright rude, although remembering how he'd behaved with his uncle, Katara suspected this was not a positive sign.) If battle was to be had or a problem in the group to be solved then Zuko was as vocal as herself or Toph, often more so, tossing instructions about as if Appa were his ship and they merely his soldiers. But when the threat was gone and all were back to being just people again instead of warriors and avatars, Zuko's will for interaction went out like a candle.

The boy was not, Katara had decided, a _people_ person. But his heated opinions on tactics and bending contradicted so starkly with his mute-like behavior in everything else that she felt sure Zuko's silent nature was not something he was born to. So one night when it was just the two of them by the campfire Katara posed the question, because being direct was the only way to get anything useful out of Zuko.

"Back on your ship,"—even directness was not a guarantee, but she'd found him utterly oblivious to subtlety—"were you always this quiet when you weren't ordering everyone around?"

"Being around the same people for three years means you quickly lose things to talk about," he replied, "and my uncle talked enough for the both of us." Three weeks ago this would have sent Katara scurrying, but in the middle of Aang and Azula's last skirmish she'd decided friends fight together better than mutual travelers, and now that she'd decided to become Zuko's friend Katara was no longer willing to wait for him to open up first.

"Well, what about when you were younger? Were you a quiet kid too?"

The corners of Zuko's mouth creased downward. "I learned to speak, I learned when not to speak, I learned to fight with Azula every time I felt like speaking. That should explain enough."

"So you were a quiet kid," Katara murmered, guessing by his cryptic response and what she knew of Azula that the prince must've avoided a fight with his harpy sister whenever possible.

"No," Zuko said, standing up and walking away from the fire. "I wasn't."


	25. Microcosm

This was written after 2x07, **before** "The Chase", so the gang hasn't encountered Zuko yet. Also, warning for potentially OOC Katara. And, possibly, OOC Zuko. I usually try to avoid taking characters OOC, but my romantic overwhelmed my canon adherence. --WAIT! I just remembered, this fic has been jossed by episode 2x08, and that makes it...you guessed it...AU! And we all know that Alternate Universe Zuko and Alternate Universe Katara cannot be out of character, because AU makes them in-character, by definition. Whee! See what I did there? My logic is circular and masterful in its circle-ness.

* * *

**Microcosm**

When she first spied him in the clearing, he was sharpening his swords. One lay beside him, resting across the rock on which he sat. The other was held out before his chest, shining a little brighter with each swipe of his whetstone.

She stared at his face for a long time, longer than it takes to recognize an ordinary person at the end of an ordinary day. From where she stood at the edge of the trees, the knee-high grasses sweeping back and forth across her legs, she tried to imagine if her eyes could be believed.

His profile was that of an average young man, if you discounted the pale cast of his skin. He had high cheekbones, a defined and narrow jawline. His nose was straight and his neck was long, bowed forward over his task. All in all, a handsome boy. A boy you could stare at across a grassy meadow and wait and hope he might look up and see you. Perhaps smile at you, beckon you nearer? The short-cropped hair fell into a widow's peak, and she wondered what it'd be like to see it up close. She'd never seen a grown person with hair that short, and her mind shied away from the why of it. Instead, she turned the idea over in her mind: would it be scratchy, or soft? Had he cut it with his own swords?

_Turn your head,_ she thought to him, as if her will could force his body to motion. _Let me see if you're really him._

If he was the boy she thought he might be—which made no sense because that boy was months away and had no need for swords or the solace of a lonely meadow—then all it would take was a turn of his head, just the slightest tilt, and she could be certain. But what then? What would she do when she saw him and he saw her and they were each staring at the other across grass and sunset: the girl with the trees at her back and the boy with the rock at his feet? Would the hundred years war begin again in a clearing far from both their homelands, or would he cast aside his swords and speak to her? Would he lay down his fire the way she might lay down her water? In the end such a thing was impossible for a bender who carried his flames beneath his skin.

_He can't give up his real weapons_, she acknowledged, _but I can give up mine._

When Zuko finally raised his head and jerked at the sight of her, Katara set her canteen in the grass and dropped her hands to her sides.

On his feet, against the world, he faced her like a dragon and did not lay down his swords. After a silence he began the long trek across the grass, a blade resting surely in each hand. He no longer looked to Katara like a prince or a firebender, but Zuko's walk still screamed of danger and war, of tightly reined aggression and confidence in his own precision.

Katara held her ground, and did not break his gaze as he stepped close enough to embrace her. Adrenaline seeped into her fingertips till they itched, and the sound of her heart hammered in skull, but she let him get close because a foolish, daring part of her wondered how close he'd dare to step, how near to his enemy he'd allow himself to go before the words or the violence began. She asked herself if he was stepping closer because he wondered the same.

If this was a game they were playing, Katara had no idea who was winning.

Face to face they now stood, her arms still at her sides despite every desire to raise them in defense. His arms hung as well, swords dangling to brush the grass. Their stares met; it was something strange and electric, because the last time she'd stood so close to to him it had been as warrior, and before that as a prisoner. What did he see in her now? The _Prince _Zuko had looked at her as something to be beaten; this Zuko was eyeing her like he didn't know quite what to do with her.

She had always seen herself reflected in his eyes as the object blocking his path. But for whatever reason the driving goal was gone from his gaze, and Zuko wasn't looking beyond Katara, but directly at her. _Her,_ because she was in front him and—like a hunted animal—all this new Zuko could see was that which stood right before his eyes. Although he did not attack Katara could see it in the changed hair, the road-worn clothes, the sharpened gold of his gaze: the prince was still dangerous, but now he was _wild._

She sucked in her breath as he drew closer by inches. What happens when you leash a dog to make him into a wolf, then rip the leash away? Is the creature that's left a boy who carries swords when all he needs is fire?

Zuko exhaled; his breath tickled her neck. Katara shuddered and closed her eyes.

* * *

I'm ending it there.

Because I'm EVIL.

This was written off a mental image, more than anything. Two mental images: the first of Zuko sitting on a rock in a grassy meadow (the the tree line a ways behind him), in profile, sharpening his swords.

The second image was Zuko and Katara in a widescreen-style shot, with Zuko on the right and Katara on the left, a long space of grass between them with the sunset over trees (it's a small meadow) in the background. Zuko is still sitting on the rock (body facing the audience/camera now) with his swords, but he's looked up and seen her; Katara is standing in profile to us but facing him, with the wind blowing her hair artfully and everything's all anime Miyazaki or Ang Lee Movie and there's quiet, melodic, but subtly dramatic music to indicate a stirring moment of recognition.

Yeah, I totally don't write episodes in my head. Shut up.


	26. Whose Hearts Are Mountains

**Author:** Rashaka  
**Wordcount:** 6,238ish  
**Rating:** M for Mature.  
**Status:** One-shot, complete.  
**Spoilers:** The bulk of this was written before the season 2 premier, but certain aspects of the premier were later incorporated. However, it has now been jossed by episode 2x08 "The Chase", so this can be considered spoilery for episode 2x02, and a future AU after that point.

**Summary:** Zuko and Katara come together one warm afternoon under circumstances not made for ancient Water ballads or great Fire tales: they meet in a ventilation duct.

* * *

IMPORTANT: What you're about to read is not actually a drabble, but the first few paragraphs of a longer, mature-rated one-shot. The full story can be found at:

fichaven .org /viewstory .php? sid1398

* * *

**Whose Hearts Are Mountains**

In the song lore of the Water tribes, it is said that when you meet someone as an enemy or as a friend, you meet half a person. When you have met someone as both, then you may claim to know their heart completely.

In the Fire Nation there is a story of two people who meet at many points through the journeys of their lives but speak only to their own companions, never to each other. It is considered one of most tragic of Fire legends, for the Spirits brought two souls together, yet they were too afraid to seize their destiny.

Zuko and Katara come together one warm afternoon under circumstances not made for ancient Water myths or great Fire tales: they meet in a ventilation duct.

Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, self-appointed bodyguard to the Avatar and sister to the idiot who probably got himself and the Avatar stranded two islands over while she was actually _doing_ her part of the plan, hates them. Ventilation ducts, that is. For the last hour she's been having a hell of a time crawling through them in her tribal pant-skirt and summer overcoat, and in the tiny portion of her mind that isn't preoccupied with terror and confusion she wonders if she'll ever be clean again. She can guess that her clothes must look more gray than blue, and somehow she just knows there are soot smudges on her face. She is hot and miserable and lost in a maze of passages only an insane person would build. Who designed Fire Nation fortresses? Katara has long decided that whoever they are, they should be keelhauled.

In contrast, Prince Zuko is making good time through the narrow spaces and enjoying the sweet sensation of victory. Nestled in the sack on his back is the secret map he's just lifted from his sister's make-shift war office. His other reason for sneaking into Azula's fort (only hers _temporarily_)—the legal documents detailing warrants for their uncle's arrest and expatriation—were burned on the spot. Destroying a scroll sealed by the Fire Lord is a crime of course, but Zuko is hardly the first aristocrat to do it, and he won't be the last. Moreover, the sabotage will slow the princess down should she try to broker a deal with any Earth Kingdom officials or enlist the help of the other generals. It won't stop her, but Zuko takes a sadistic joy in what triumphs he can get and what annoyance he can inflict where his sister is concerned.

Busy with these thoughts and sure of his secrecy, Zuko lets out a undignified yelp when he bumps head-first into someone. There is a shriek, a scrambling of limbs and curses, and then fire rises from Zuko's hand to illuminate the dirty, bright-eyed face of a water tribe woman. She takes one look at his spirit mask in the firelight and screams. Before Zuko can reach out and quiet her forcibly she throws her hands over her own mouth in a bid for silence.

They sit there, the fire between them like a warm lamp, and stare at each other for a bit.

"Hi," she says tentatively. Zuko doesn't trust himself to speak.

* * *

The full story can be found at:

fichaven .org /viewstory .php? sid1398


	27. Don't Take This The Wrong Way

**Title: **Don't Take This The Wrong Way  
**Category:** Humor  
**Challenge:** none  
**Wordcount:** 100 BABY! And on the first count.

**

* * *

**

**Don't Take This The Wrong Way**

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I think we should share a sleeping bag to conserve body heat. It's a proven survival technique."

Zuko rolled over on his side to eyeball Katara. She stared at him with a straight face. He then cast his eyes about the camp, gaze landing first on the cheerfully burning fire pit, then drifting to the dry ground and the blanket currently bunched by his feet. A warm night breeze rustled his hair, bringing promises of sunny days on the road to Ba Sing Sei.

Zuko looked back at the waterbender. "I completely agree."


	28. 1sentence fics

**1setence fics**

For Irrel's "My Chemical Romance" challenge. These are not connected to one another in any way.

* * *

_2. Dying wish _

"Take care of my boy," Iroh choked, blood welling in his throat and spilling over his lips; Katara wrapped her arms around the crumbling man and promised, "Always, always."

* * *

_13. This elevator only goes up to ten_

In the aluminum walls of the elevator his disfigurement seemed larger and her body smaller; when she raised her hand in offering the reflection warped it into a strike.

* * *

_20. Hopeless heart_

The battle for her heart was over years before he realized he'd won.

* * *

_17. Criminal_

He was a criminal for wearing a mask, a criminal for joining the rebellion, a criminal for marrying the woman he loved.

* * *

_25. the collision of your kiss_

Their first kiss was an act of violence, a wanton connection born of rivalry and loneliness.

_

* * *

_

_27. Clean me off_

"Can I touch you?"-- it sounded so innocent, but soap made his fingers slick and water felt _different_ dripping from his skin to hers.

* * *

_42. I'm trying_

She'd been told it would hurt, that it would be strange and rough for a girl; "We can try again," he promised, "We'll make it better next time."

* * *

_46. From the earth_

They took shelter in the rockpiles of the quarry and let the stone protect them: the earth never forgot its first children, even if they wore different faces now.

_

* * *

_

_47. I lied_

"I could never love someone like you, and you were a fool for thinking I would."


	29. step in, step in, step in

_"Follow the river and you will find the sea"_

**

* * *

**

**step in, step in, step in**

They surface at the same time.

"You are mean!" Zuko acuses, and although it seems a strange insult to pass his lips he honestly means it right now. "You let everyone think you're this sweet angel but you're not. You're vindictive, and envious, and _controlling_ and—"

A whirl of water drags him under again and yanks him forward, right into Katara's arms. He can barely keep his breath as she grabs his face between her palms and starts kissing him. His head reels in the flow; he can't orient because his feet can't touch the bottom. Up has turned down and right is left and everything is blue and green at once.

Green river.

Blue girl.

Soft lips.

No air.

Water pushes, pulls, and up they go again.

"What the hell!" Zuko snarls, clawing at the air as he kicks below. A few feet away, Katara floats, submerged to her nose, watching as he stablizes and tries to rant at the same time.

"What's _wrong_ with you! You can't just interrupt someone like that—" her eyes rolls at him, "—abusing your element to control the conversation! It's not—Ka_tara!_"

Again she has gone, and Zuko swallows a curse. He treads in circles and knows in his gut that it's a pointless act.

"Fine!" he shouts to the river. "If that's what you want, fine!" He breathes deep and drops below. A blink, and she floats before him, running fingers and liquid currents over his face. He blinks more and still she remains, her nose to his. Underwater threads weave around them, teasing every particle of his skin while her hands hover over his brow.

'Stay' she mouths. He closes his eyes and concedes to the underwater waterfall.

Fingertips touch his eyelids; he opens them and Katara smiles through a wreath of bubbles. Her shoulders are shaking with wide-eyed laughter and Zuko tucks away the image for a day when he will need to know that the world is still beautiful. His hands drift up to capture hers against his face as he brings them both to rise. No sooner do they break surface to breathe than it is time to touch again, Zuko pulling her into his encircling arms.

He knows by now that to embrace Katara is a surrender. He has let her win, allowed her silence him with kisses and bubbles.

_But when all is said and done_, he thinks as her hands slip over the wet skin of his shoulders, _I did step into the river of my own accord._


	30. How Not To Talk To Girls

A bit of adolescent humor.

**

* * *

**

How Not To Talk To Girls

By the time the Southern Tribesmen left to war and the oldest remaining example of masculine pride was her bright, fool of a brother, Katara already understood that grandmothers have the last say in every decision and this was simply the way of the world. From her grandmother she learned to deliver babies--both animal and human--and acquired from an early age that inevitable knowledge of how her body worked and what she could expect of it. It's hard to be squeamish about a little blood of one's own when one has birthed a live, kicking snow carribou in one's backyard.

However, growing up with closely one chauvanist boy (and knowing several others before they disappeared over the horizon), Katara was constantly forced to witness and deal with certain attitudes about _that time of the month_ and whether or not her crying and her anger was a result of mood swings or merely a logical, reasonable side effect of being in absurd amounts of pain. Adolescence brought new reasons to fight with her older brother, and it took a long, long time before she finally convinced him that girls who were menstruating were not crazy or icky, that no girl wanted to ever be told she was crazy or icky, and that if Sokka wanted to live to have a girlfriend he'd never imply Katara was either of those ever again.

In matters of social interaction, Prince Zuko at recently seventeen was not so learned, or so lucky, as Sokka had been at fourteen. Through arguably no fault of his own, Zuko happened to be absent for those crucial years of his sister's young adulthood, and never picked up that particular lesson about how not to talk to girls.

When he noticed Katara using her waterbending to a rinse bloody rag after the rest of the laundry, his first response was to ask whose blood it was. Upon realizing the answer to his own question (because no one had been injured in days), Zuko gave a nervous effort toward verbal backpedalling while, in an attempt to break the awkwardness, simultaneously dispensing a few butchered proverbs about growing up, and ended with the gem:

"And you don't have to worry--I won't tell anyone."

Katara bended the last of the water out of the cloth, and set it in the sack by her feet. She turned to him and asked, "_What_ did you say? I didn't quite hear you."

He replied a little louder, but still tried to be inconspicuous. It was futile: the entire group was within hearing distance anyway. "I just said that I won't tell anyone about, you know, that you're..."

Katara looked at him darkly from her place by the wash bowl.

"Oh no," moaned Sokka. "Here we go."

"What? What exactly did he say?" Aang wanted to know, at first too busy playing with Momo to notice the rising tension.

"Trust me, he has it coming," said Toph. All their eyes followed Katara's form rise until she was looming over the cross-legged Zuko, bag of laundry glued to her hip and her arms crossed at her chest like a road block.

"And what," she growled, "does it matter that you saw me cleaning a bloody wash cloth?"

"Nothing, I guess," Zuko replied slowly, like he was testing the water and had found it decidedly too cold for swimming.

"So why bring it up? Am I supposed to be_ embarrassed_, because it happens to make _you_ nervous? Should I be ashamed of it?" Her volume increased with each successive question.

"No, that's not what--"

"Do you expect me to stammer and blush and look away just because _you_ saw me cleaning blood out of a few rags? _My_ blood? Maybe I need to _explain_ it to you--"

"Uh, that's not necessary Katara--"

"--Because apparently they don't teach royal little brats about it, and you're probably feeling confused now, and wondering what you said that was wrong--"

"I'm sorry," he tried, but she would hear none of it.

"Sorry? You're _sorry?_" Katara shouted, "What are _you_ sorry about? You can't even handle the sight of blood you stupid, stupid--boy! Yeah, it's blood! Blood blood blood! It's happens! Grow up!"

She threw the sack of laundry at his face and marched out of the camp. Zuko set the bundle gingerly on the ground; it took all his pride not to immediately shake his hands clean of imaginary ick. Then he noticed everyone else.

"What!"

Katara's brother sighed and shook his head. The young Avatar shrugged.

"You totally deserved that, Stomps-A-Lot," Toph said. "And you can stop being nervous all the time, because now she'll _never_ kiss you."


	31. RR: The Healing

What you're about to read below is the text I used as the opening prompt for the Round Robin Fanfic Challenge at the **katarazuko** community on LiveJournal. The premise of the RR is that Katara has time to heal Zuko's scar in the season finale.

Note: I am NOT posting this here as a challenge. I'm posting this snippet here for organizational purposes more than anything else. It's a bit unconventional to post it, but I did start "The Moon & The Sun" as a place to collect all my Zutara fanfic scraps, so I feel this is as good a home as any.

* * *

_Prompt: _

_The Healing_

"I used to think this scar marked me," Zuko said somberly. "The mark of the banished prince, cursed to chase the Avatar forever. But lately, I've realized I'm free to determine my own destiny, even if I'll never be free of my mark."

"Maybe you could be free of it."

"What?" Zuko's eyes widened, and he turned to look at this girl, this waterbender, this person who suggested something he'd long since forsaken.

"I have healing abilities," said Katara. He could hear the optimism dripping from her words, and he had to look away from the naiveté shining on her face.

"It's a _scar_," he said. "It can't be healed."

But Katara and her optimism were not so easily brushed aside. She held up her moon vial, the gift of her Northern kin, and told him of its powers. " I don't know if it would work, but..."

Her voice trailed off as she looked at his hard-edged eyes, his sad features. If she freed him of his mark, would those features frighten her still? Katara took a deep breath and reached out; Prince Zuko closed his eyes. He let her hand rest against his cheek, allowed her dark hands to touch the place where soft, pale skin became bitter red and purpled flesh. Her thumb brushed his mouth, and Zuko did not dare to breathe. She lifted her hand from his features, and when it returned Zuko could feel not just skin, but water. As the warm liquid spread over his damaged face it tingled, it itched, and it began to burn.

A violent, living memory filled his vision, and Zuko jerked back from the face of his father. But he couldn't get away—a second hand came behind his head and held him while a voice broke through the agony.

"I'm sorry, I know it hurts," Katara said through gritted teeth. "Give me a chance, it will be over soon." The water bent from her fingers to his flesh. It swirled beneath the skin of his disfigurement, tearing the cells apart before it could weave them together properly. Katara suppressed her nausea and focused harder.

Zuko, however, was staggering on his feet. He wanted to break away but her palms held him fast and he could think of nothing but the pain. "You lied!" he accused, almost screaming. "Stop! You're hurting me!"

"I'm almost finished!" Katara shouted into his ear. She held his head in her hands, and he leaned into her like a grieving lover might. Yet it wasn't a pose of trust—she could feel the anger and fear making his body quiver, and she prayed he wouldn't force her to stop too early. "It has to be hurt again before it can be healed! I'm sorry, but I swear it's almost..."

The last dribbles of water slid down his face, and Katara's hand lifted. The prince dropped to his knees, gasping. Katara's own breath came in deep, heavy waves. She pressed one hand to her chest as Zuko raised his head and caught her fast with a pair of beautiful, perfectly symmetrical eyes.

"...over."

The young man—and he truly looked it for the first time since Katara had met him—ran tentative fingers over his face. "It feels normal, but... it hurts."

The waterbender nodded, and, grateful for something to say, tucked the vial back around her neck. It rested safely there, but she worried over how much lighter it felt. "It's residual pain from the healing process. It should go away soon, like any normal muscle ache."

Zuko opened his mouth to speak when the cave wall exploded.


	32. Fanfic Scraps 1: Bluetara talky doom

_For **xxoathkeeperxx**, who wanted romantic Blue Spirit/Katara fic for winning the katarazuko __manip contest__. I'm sorry I've never actually written you an entire fic, as your prize called for. What you're about to read is the notes and scraps of the fic that never got written--- the fic where Zuko sees Appa on sale in the Ba Sing Se black market and through a night of confusion and espionage ends up, as the Blue Spirit, helping Katara to set Appa free and save the city itself from a secret conspiracy of the Dai Li and some enterprising smugglers. This is part of the scene that would have taken place near to the end of the story, in the falling resolution._

_You can tell how much of a first draft it is, by both random sentence fragments, authors notes mid-text, and the fact that it's completely unedited, unrevised, and sort of stream-of-thought. _

* * *

_**FANFIC SCRAPS: **_

****

_**the happy-turned-angsty-turned-dialogue-crazy fic of Bluetara talky doom**_

****

_**

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**_

From the highest window of the Earth King's palace, overlooking a tapestry of

sun rose over

This city, this beautiful city, that they alone had saved. The stranger and her.

"What happens now?"

"Home."

Katara lchuckled, an echo of bells in the quiet dawn. That was his way: a single expression to answer every question, as if there was nothing in this world to be said that could not be summed up in just the right word.

"It's been kinda fun, hasn't it? A night of adventure." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other; she smiled and reached out to flick at his mask. "My stranger and me."

one hand hers, the other left toward his face, up beneath the mask

"Yes," his lips whispered against her fingertips.

Yes to what? Yes, it had been an adventure. Yes, they had spent it together. Yes, he was _her_ stranger.

Katara closed her eyes, because this was a gift and his mask was a distraction. She shuddered at the intimacy that only deepened in blindess, and sucked in a rush of air. Her fingers curled just slightly, and the tips of her nails brushed the inside of his lower lip. With a heady breath and words she didn't know how to voice, she moved her fingers upward. Over his nose, his cheek. His face was smooth and fine, his skin as soft and as warm as the air that ghosted her palm when he breathed. She passed his forehead and grazed the brush of his widow's peak. Down to his lips again, then slowly up the opposite side. She passed over new skin, rough and swollen. Deep rivets spiderwebbed over his flesh, with rises and dips in an injury that swirled outward from his eye and across his handsome brow. As she learned his face by touch and so learned his name, it took all her strength not to waiver.

Instead of stopping she let her hand slide back to the center, let her fingers run down his nose and his mouth, over his lips again. As her left hand drifted down from the mask that was now falling back into place, he caught her by the wrist again. His hand flattened beneath hers, cradling it in fingers longer and palms wider. He brought her right hand over her left, and pressed them together between his own.

"You're crying," he whispered, and ducked his head. The mask served no purpose now, for he'd let her know what lay behind it, and even when secret it never obscured his vision of her. The shine of teartracks on her cheeks left him sick inside, and he looked at the ground as he apologized. For what?

"I didn't want to make you cry, but I understand." For not being the face she wanted. For wearing the scar she feared. For being ugly, for disappointing her, for ruining a beautiful adventure with the truth because he selfishly couldn't let her look at him anymore without looking at _him_.

"No," she said, rough and thick. "No. I'm crying for you."

But that, in its own way, was also too much, and he dropped his gaze again. "Don't."

"Why not?"

"Enough tears have been shed over that. You can't add water to an ocean."

Katara gulped, and tried to smile. "That sounds like something my grandmother would say."

"Tell her I'm sorry too."

And then Katara stopped trying to smile and laughed, laughed well and happy from her gut to her lightly shaking shoulders. Visions pranced before her eyes, of a boy in red steel and black leather, waving his fist and staring down a little old lady who could have shamed him into a new set of balls with a single well-placed sentence, if she'd had a mind to spend the breath on him.

"She's already forgiven you, you idiot. She probably forgave you the moment she saw you were barely older than us." Katara added, "If I brought you home to her today she'd probably just sigh and shake her head, then sit you down and feed you till your cheeks grew fat as a baby's. That's what grandmothers do."

"You can't bring me home." Zuko's voice cut through her happy reminiscence, and Katara sobered.

"I know that."

With care, the prince pulled off his mask and met her gaze.

"I have a home already." Bitterness vied with resignation in his words, but she could sense the underlying hardness to his statement. There was truth there, buried beneath doubt and bravado.

"I know that too."

"I'll get back to it some day."

"Yes, I think you will." Her agreement startled him, and the widening of his eyes betrayed it. "I think," Katara continued, raising her hand to touch his face in the light or morning, "That someday you'll get all the things you truly want."

He struggled to speak under the distraction of her skin against his. "How can you be so sure?"

* * *

_I know, I know: pick a frelling mood already! And no, that's not the end, that's just where I stopped writing._


	33. Fanfic Scraps 2: Apartment AU

This was born of randomness many months ago, and never developed into anything. The premise is a sort of modern AU with bending in which Katara moves in to the grungy apartment next door to Zuko (key description: "dirty hot") who is living illegally as an unregistered bender, and whose main job is illegal trafficking of identities, supplies, and weapons. He disappears at odd hours of the night, associates with the criminal underground and the illegal benders who live in secret, and if necessary he probably could literally _find _the black market, despite all evidence toward such things being metaphorical.

Abandonned Fic Snippet:

**Apartment AU**

* * *

When she first met him, he smelled of smoke. It wasn't like the sweet choke of cigarettes, the clean absence of scent from firebending, or the sulfurous odor of man who works in chemicals. It reminded her instead of a sinister, stifling kind of pollution. The smell that comes from garbage bonfires and burning rubber: a thick, black smoke that covers your body like a miasma. It wafted out of the corners of the man in front of her, drifting from elbows, hair, and the creases in his clothes. She sniffed audibly before she could stop herself, and the man looked up from his task of fitting key to keyhole just in time to catch her guilty eyes.

"That one doesn't lock from the inside," he said and pointed at Katara's door, looming a mere five feet down the wall from his. She stood in front of it now, hand hovering still over the old brass knob.

"It worked on Monday when the land lord showed me the apartment."

The man shrugged, and it made his jacket fall open attractively at the neck. He was fit, she noticed, but too skinny for someone with broad shoulders. Hungry skinny-- or maybe drug skinny. There was something wrong with his face, but he kept it obscured under his hair and she couldn't make out the nature of his deformity.

"Kaikoru's a dick," he replied, twisting the key repeatedly in the knob in front of him. With every turn it creaked in what sounded to Katara like petulance more than protest.

"How do you know it doesn't lock?" she asked, taking in his appearance. She thought he looked like a paroled criminal. Maybe he'd frequently broken in on the previous tenant and was brazen enough to brag about it to the victim's successor.

He ignored the question, or just pretended she hadn't asked it, and said, "Change the lock if want to sleep at night." He disappeared behind the wood, and left Katara staring at the number nailed onto his door, just below the peep hole. It was 214, with the number four tilted sloppily outward. Katara stared at it few moments, allowing a small shudder to creep up her neck like a spider. Then she stepped into her new apartment and lodged her nearest chair under the inside knob.

* * *

** Background and character bios, for fun!**

**World: **The government snatches up all the benders it can, from specialized school programs to the military to government jobs. Unless you're extremely well off, the only way to afford something like a medical career (to be a licensed healer) or other bending-centric jobs is to take a government loan contract, which means working for them when you come out of college, often with little choice in where or how you are assigned. All benders have to be legally registered, and most are registered from childhood. Certain families with a long bloodline of benders are spied on by the government. Iroh is being watched, but he's been hiding it since his youth, and Ozai was not a bender, and Zuko is hiding it... so in the eyes of the government there hasn't been a bender in their family for 2 generations, since Azulon. Never6heless the cops have arrested Zuko and Iroh and Ozai multiple times, hoping to "out" one of them. Iroh has a grudge against the government after the death of his son, and Zuko is just plain restless and angry.

** Katara:** Katara was going to be a doctor at one point, but that dream disappeared when she dropped out of college. If someone ever got her to actually confront her dissatisfaction with her life, she'd admit to now wanting to be an Emergency Medical Technician, but she's afraid of change. Her new apartment is on the scarier side of town, and she has to get used to noisy neighbors, the occasional mouse, scary people, and living one wall away from Zuko. She's a med-school drop out, a registered bender who has only partial training, and if she were to ever go back to school for her full training she'd have no say in how her skills are used, which pisses her off.

** Zuko: **Zuko is a middle-man, and his primary product is people. He introduces people to other people, arranges for things to happen, and cuts a profit off of fear and need. His biggest job is to sneak benders in and out of the city and set them up with false identities and materials to start life over. Sometimes that means helping registered benders escape the government, other times it means helping unregistered benders avoid notice or capture. He smokes when he's drunk, which is about two or three nights a week. He _leans_ on things all the time, and while he has no martial arts skills whatsoever, he's scrappy in a fight. He's never been to college, but his uncle raised him to read a lot of classic literature, so he can (and does) fake his education. He has no tattoos, and considers his scar to be more than enough of a "permanent souvenir" for one lifetime. His father gave it to him by throwing oil onto his face when he was a kid and then lighting a match to it. His father is in jail now, and Zuko hopes he stays there. He feeds stray animals and birds, and one particular stray cat hangs around him a lot. Katara thinks that he steals (he does), that he's a drug-dealer (he's not), and that he's bad news (he is.) She's part terrified of him (her imagination unfairly cooks up a lot of extravagant scenarios with him as a villain), part intrigued by him, and part viscerally attracted to him. He can bend, but not very well for lack of practice and living a life where to be seen bending without a registration is a criminal offense.


	34. Untitled Drabble

Random long-ish drabble. Set in the future, probably 2-3 years. Another version of Sokka giving Zuko his big brother speech, but hopefully not as "cringeworthy". Not edited at all, so forgive its flaws and its somewhat stretched characterization.

**Originally written March 2006**, in early season 2. I rediscovered it while browsing old LJ posts. The characters might be a little off for that reason, but the drabble is pretty light so there's no danger of drastic character change.

* * *

**Untitled Sokka Cliche Conversation Fic**

"If you _hurt her_..." Sokka began, but Zuko cut him off.

"Don't be thick. Of course I'm going to hurt her."

"What?" Sokka jumped from his chair and slammed his hands on the table.

"And she's going to hurt me," Zuko continued, staying calmly in his seat and staring down the brother of his betrothed. "These things will happen in marriage. It's unavoidable."

"If you're going into this," the other man practically growled, "with that kind of screwed up attitude then you don't deserve her."

"Grow up," Zuko snapped, his cool facade slipping just a little. "I'm trying to be clear with you as a gesture of respect for the woman we both love. I can't promise I'll never hurt her, or that I'll always be worthy of her love. I do promise to love her for as long as she'll have me and to chase after her and beg the minute she decides otherwise."

Sokka sat back down in his chair and mulled this over. "You'd beg."

"In this entire world she is the _only_ thing I'd beg for."

Sokka thought about pointing out that Zuko was the Fire Lord and didn't have to _beg_ for anything, but he forced himself to remember that Zuko hadn't always been the Fire Lord, and had not always been above begging. Maybe he should cut the guy some slack.

"Alright. I'll allow you to marry her." It was more slack than he deserved, Sokka felt.

At these words Zuko glared, and at the same moment Katara fell into the sitting room from an adjoining doorway. She scrambled to her feet and hid her embarassment with a nice veil of anger.

"Hey! We weren't _asking_ for your permission, Sokka! Your _permission_ was never on the table!"

"It's okay Katara, you have it." Sokka bestowed his sister with a patronizing grin, exactly the kind he knew would make her blood boil. After all, he had to get _some_ kind of entertainment out of this dreadful conversation.

"Argh! You! Take that back! Take it back right now!" A string of graphic cursewords followed (thank time with the Earth Nation armies for that), and then threats of violence.

Without a word Zuko took Katara by the elbow, gently dragging his new fiancée out the room even as she tried to find new and colorful ways to insult her brother while sparing their shared family lineage.

"Fine!" Sokka heard Katara shout distantly from the hallway. "But you're not invited to the reception! No cake!"

* * *

There you go. Not terribly inspired, I know, but I was surprised I hadn't added it to this collection before.

I rather like the idea that Zuko would be the calm, soothing, passive spouse while Katara is the verbose and quick-to-anger violent one. I doubt it they'd really be that way, but the idea tweaks me.


	35. The Apothecary's Tea Cup

Set sometime in the future, after DOBS. No spoilers, just speculation.

* * *

**The Apothecary's Tea Cup  
**

Zuko is not a master of tea, not a connoisseur or a lifelong student. He does not have the palate for discerning between leaves that have been withered dry and leaves that have been rolled, or guessing where a stash was grown by the quality of its bitterness. He only knows that white tea is too plain for his Uncle, black tea is what his sailors would always drink, and--if absolutely forced into some kind of preference--all he personally wants in his boiling water are fresh lemon leaves and a bit of honey. So he is not the man to ask for flavors or advice, and he can't tell Katara what kind of tea will let the bloodied, battered Avatar sleep a little easier.

He approaches them warily, observing the too-quiet scene of Katara leaning over a normally vivacious boy, the former silenced with concentration and the latter silenced by something far worse.

"They're not going to kill the pain, but I did find mint leaves in the ravine. We can brew them, and if you have the last of the honey it will go down easier. He's lost a lot of water with the sweat and vomit, and if he doesn't drink something soon he might go into shock."

"I have the honey, in my bag. Will it mask the taste of echina root?" 

"He won't thank us for ruined teeth in his later life, but if you use enough, yes."

She accepts the tiny bundle into her palm, laying the cloth open like petals of a delicate flower. In the center there are mint leaves instead of stamen, and she carefully drops several large pinches of the fresh greens into a boiling pot. Katara then re-wraps the remaining mint and tucked the package into her belt, raises her eyes to the prince, and says, "We've done all we can do, Zuko. We've healed him and we're giving him something to fight infection, now we just have to wait now for his body to catch up."

The prince paces. "I can't just stand here. I need to do more. I can't wait and do nothing when I know that he's almost dead, again, because of me."

"This isn't about you," Katara tells him, but there's no reprimand in her, only gentleness. Zuko knows without looking that she is crying, a tear drifting down each cheek, because the hitch of her breath gives away what even her voice does not. "Sit with us. Haru has the watch."

Zuko nods at last. He folds his legs and places his elbows on his knees, hands clenched and unclenched. As he watches Katara bends a strand of the mint-echina tea into the mouth of the young boy resting on a bed of leaves. When Aang swallows, throat bobbing delicately, the prince and the warrior feel the wires around their hearts loosen.


	36. Games

Here we go. This one's extra long, made for a prompt I gave to the katarazuko LJ community. It's not the most original story idea, but I had fun writing it on the spur of the moment.

Spoilers: The Western Air Temple

Initial word count: 1900

Summary: The group plays Truth or Dare. There's truths, and there's dares, and sometimes it's hard to tell which is which.

* * *

**Games**

_we were all in love, and we all got hurt_

"This is for Toph, then."

The ceramic flask twirled under Teo's hand (none of the benders were allowed to spin the flask themselves, to minimize the cheating) and after an agonizing final circle, stopped in front of Katara. Zuko called on all his royal training not to wilt as he saw it. Toph had been waiting three times now and the prince knew the oncoming scene would be either hilarious or devastating, given the frequent rivalry between the girls. No punches would be pulled, especially with what Katara had made Toph go through two turns before.

The black-haired earthbender turned her face to where she knew Katara was sitting, and said in a sing-song voice straight from the depths of some forsaken spirit-hell, "Ka-ta-raaaaaa. Truth or dare?"

"Truth, of course."

"Are you in love with someone here?"

Katara opened her mouth and then closed it again, a few times. She even sputtered. She glanced everywhere except at Aang. Then she refused to answer. Zuko, chin resting in hand, looked around from Toph to Katara to Aang and felt profound gladness that he'd escaped being chosen. Watching this unfold was painful already. The young Avatar's eyes shined with anticipation, Toph was smug, and Katara somehow contrived to look murderous and terrified at the same time.

The older girl changed her mind, crunching her teeth: "Dare."

Toph sat back and smiled. "I dare you... to kiss Zuko. On the lips, for real."

Zuko's chin fell out of his hand and his elbow slipped off its perch on his knee, the end result being that his upper body collapsed forward inelegantly and his elbow knocked painfully into the marble floor. He sat up quickly again, ramrod straight. Katara's face had taken on the hue and appearance of a volcano, Sokka kept busy waving his hands in denial, Aang was shocked into muteness, Haru had raised his eyebrows, Teo's head jerked wildly as he looked back and forth at everyone, and Toph might as well have been sitting on a throne.

"No way!"

"C'mon Katara," Toph goaded her. "Kiss Zuko or answer the question. Or quit and run away like a pig-chicken. That's the rules."

Zuko sent a glance to Sokka; the boy looked like he wanted to argue but was biting his tongue, half-way won over by the logic of that argument. Katara wasn't.

"Oh, and you'd know?" the waterbender replied, giving her worst glare to the only person guaranteed not to appreciate it. "Like you've ever played spin-the-flask before tonight, Miss I Grew Up On Golden Bed Sheets. You're making these rules up."

"Well that's how we used to play it with the Freedom Fighters," the Duke added helpfully (or spitefully, Zuko figured) from off to the left of the circle, snuggled in Appa's legs. He'd been banished there after an uncomfortable discussion of where the line of "appropriate age" was drawn, a discussion made doubly awkward by the fact that no one was prepared to tell Toph Bei Fong she couldn't play with the older kids, and once you let Toph in Aang qualified too. Plus, it was better with six than four. Everyone agreed that The Duke was sitting out, though, and better yet should go play with Appa somewhere else. The Duke had since coaxed the bison close enough to eavesdrop on the game. He said, confident that the older kids were hanging on his every word, "You either answer the question or you do the dare. That's how _Jet_ said you play."

There it lay before them, one magic name summoned like a ball of fire to dangle and dance before the circle of players: how did _Jet_ play spin-the-flask? Were they grown up enough to play it the way the Freedom Fighters did, or would they chicken out like little kids? Everyone present had met the young rebel except Haru, and even the village-born earthbender had heard tales by now. The impression he'd left on them all had only grown since his passing. Jet would never back out of a dare, this was _understood_.

Still, it was a mean-spirited dare, since it was public knowledge that Katara had nothing but contempt and vitriol where the prince of the Fire Nation was concerned. That was probably the point, Zuko realized, knowing Toph was going for maximum Sugar Queen rile. Katara couldn't quit now that her honor had been called into question; this was also _understood_. The Fire Nation may be the only place where citizens were obsessed with honor as a national pastime, but kids everywhere knew the tacit rules of daring. If you weren't prepared to sacrifice your dignity and display your courage, you shouldn't sit down in the first place.

From his spot, Zuko was somewhat irked that not only had no one bothered to check if _he_ though the dare was fair, but none of them had even glanced at him since Toph spoke. If there was a measure of his ineffectual status in the power hierarchy of the Avatar's troop, this was it. Even The Duke got more of a reaction.

Had anyone checked with him, the firebender would have urged Toph to reconsider the nature of her dare. He was still thinking about speaking up as they continued to argue. Katara had declared her choice of "Truth, of course," with all the airs of someone who lived in a stone-proof house made of crystal. Toph had shot that delusion down quickly (the little girl's intuition was uncanny and it frequently reminded the prince of his sister). Zuko was still pretty sure, though, that the waterbender would rather announce her love for the Avatar than kiss a boy she plainly despised. She couldn't be considering the dare. Even though it was an embarrassing way to announce your love, Katara wasn't normally shy of speaking her feelings, and it had to be better than...

"_Oh, _" Zuko whispered, and re-examined the girl who had threatened his life with wiser eyes.

Katara sat between Teo and her brother, ignoring Aang entirely, and looking mean enough to make paper bleed. She was going to do it; Zuko could see it on her face plain as day. And the only reason she would do it was if the answer to Toph's question was no. If it were even "I don't know," then there would be nothing wrong with saying so. But if the truthful answer was no, it meant a public humiliation for Aang. Katara believed in Aang and believed in the mission so much that she would (pretty foolishly, Zuko felt) kiss someone she despised and play it off as a joke. All to avoid announcing to the group that she was not _in_ love with a boy who destined to save the world and besotted with the mere whisper of her name.

In the mind of someone like Katara, it was better they think her too embarrassed to confess than risk potentially breaking the Avatar's heart and injuring his already low confidence. If she said nothing, Aang still had hope and something to fight for. Zuko simultaneously admired her dedication and felt pity that she didn't think Aang strong enough to handle reality. Growing up in a noble snakepit had given the exiled teenager respect for people who spoke the truth when it mattered, like his uncle, and he'd likewise expected Katara to give her best friend the credit the kid deserved. Her silence meant she had decided on the dare, however, and there was nothing Zuko could do or say about that. He thought he should try anyway; maybe he could save them all from this fiasco.

"I protest!" said the firebender suddenly and loudly. He added, "What kind of a dare is kissing? That's not hard or dangerous."

"Shut up!" Toph and Katara chorused. "What's it going to be, Katara?" the blind girl prodded. "Answer the question, or go give the angry prince a wet smacker."

The waterbender moved her jaw up and down as if grinding Toph's words between her teeth. She stood up and crossed the small ring of stunned bodies to stand in front of Zuko, who was sitting cross-legged. He swallowed as her blue skirt swished to a halt in front of his vision, but his pride kept him from breaking the circle. No way was he going to be the first one to quit this game, not if Katara was still in after a trap like that. The prince felt two thin, warm fingers lift his chin.

"Don't think you know what this is about," Katara warned in the voice she reserved for threatening his life, and bent her body at a perfect right angle to meet Zuko's mouth with hers.

Katara's kiss was softer than Mai's or Jin's, her lips full like all the girls of her nation. She didn't move them, paralyzed by shyness or hate, but Zuko reacted naturally where she didn't. He couldn't help inclining his head upward and elongating the gentle brush of touch. Up and down, with tiny movements--he was kissing Katara the way a pretty, sad-eyed girl had taught him to kiss. When she sucked in air, he felt it, and in that brief rush of feeling Zuko forgot their situation. He forgot just long enough for him to believe that she would let go, and kiss him back.

Instead, Katara pulled away as if she'd been yanked. Upright, she looked down the dip of her nose at Zuko the way she might look at a spider. Or perhaps she simply saw him for the exiled criminal that he was? Zuko let his chin drop and returned her gaze flatly, daring her to accuse him of something. He wasn't going to apologize for knowing how to get the most out of a kiss that she was responsible for starting.

"H_uh_," said Toph; the syllable rang through the air with both wonderment and a dreadful finality. It reminded Zuko of a funeral bell. Nobody else was talking. In fact, nobody else was breathing.

Katara took one step backward, toward the center of the circle, and it broke the spell.

"What the _hell_ was that?" Sokka demanded. Aang looked green in the face as Katara walked past him, flung her hair back, and sat down. As Zuko watched her go he half-listened to the others.

"That was a dare," supplied Teo, who always seemed inclined to take people's questions literally. "Should I spin the flask for Katara now?"

"Better spin it carefully," Haru said, his observant gaze darting from tribe girl to the near-giddy earthbending heiress. "She'll be out for blood."

"If I ever see something that disgusting again I'm going to vomit," added Sokka to no one in particular. "It's almost enough to put me off food."

"Katara's already had a turn," Toph pointed out. "It defaults to Zuko."

"Right..." the designated flask-spinner replied, and peered at the group for confirmation. Haru was nodding; he probably considered Zuko less frightening than Katara.

"Um, Katara," Aang attempted, but she cut him off.

"Teo! I don't care if it's Zuko's turn," the hot-faced girl growled, "Just spin the stupid flask and let's get this over with."

Obediently Teo leaned forward and set the container twirling on the temple's marble floor. All side conversation stopped as it ended pointing directly to Toph.

The firebender, whose steady gold eyes hadn't left Katara since the dare, finally turned his head and looked at the self-contented little earth girl beside him. The ceramic flask rested in his peripheral vision; it had picked exactly who he wanted, and no one noticed the short pressure burst of superheated air he'd directed beneath it.

"Toph Bei Fong."

"What do ya want, Stomps-A-Lot?"

She was impenetrable, a diminutive tower fortified by victory, but as he spoke Zuko let his view drift lazily from Toph to the dark-skinned boy across the ring.

"Truth, or dare?"


	37. Fanfic Scraps 3 : Arsenal

Here's another of my fanfiction scraps, an unfinished and unrefined plot bunny that is a collection of dialogue brainstorming more than an actual story. Because these are scraps, notes, ideas, it jumps around randomly, and probably is NOT in order, and generally is just things I never followed up on. So if anyone says it doesn't make sense or feels unfinished, know that I will be rolling my eyes at you. Well, rolling my eyes but also thanking you for your comments, of course. :D

July 2006, written in season 2 with the speculation that Iroh would become Aang's teacher, which we know has obviously been jossed by now. I have an obsession with giving Katara secondary weapons; in a lot of my fics I hint to that or outright give her knives or a dagger. I think that she would have to learn to defend herself without bending if she was going to be realistic about fighting (and of course this show is so based on realism [/snert) and I think if nothing else, Sokka would shove a dagger in her hand and tell her to have _some _kind of back up.

Warning: Zuko sounds a bit ...didactic here. It may feel out of character with what we know of him in season 3, but this was written a while a year and a half ago. Katara's pretty much the same, though.

Also: I put some line break dividers into this, but believe me when I say that doesn't necessarily mean that the parts inside the breaks belong together, or are in order. I just thought it'd be easier to read if I added breaks somewhere. And they're out of order. Really.

Last edit: At the very bottom you'll see the original author's note for these scraps. That's it, in its entirety. Even I can't remember what it means, what the younger me originally meant to say or why I stopped. I thought it was funny so I left it there for you.

* * *

**Fanfic Scraps 3 : Arsenal**

It wasn't until she learned to fight with weapons that Katara felt she could truly call herself the prince's equal in battle. It wasn't just water against fire anymore. Sometimes it was sword against sword, knife against club. She was no longer surprised if he hid a blade behind a veil of fire, because she already had a dagger held to his ribs.

When their journey had begun she'd been so sure that waterbending was all she needed to be strong. With bending she could meet any boy, _beat_ any boy, and she could protect her family and the world. With bending she could do anything, and once she had it she would never have to be afraid again.

The acrobat girl with sly hands changed everything.

* * *

Iroh, busy with Aang, told her to seek out his nephew. "I'm too old for that stuff now. Besides, teaching you will help Zuko remember his basics and keep a sense of humility."

* * *

"Did you know there are drugs that can take away your bending? Three that stop it outright. At least eight more that make your mental control over your element so weak and messy that you might as well not be a bender at all. Any sedative-- your bending is the first thing to go, long before vision or motor skills. There's a plant on the island of Weijan that temporarily eliminates your ability to control the power of your attacks: you'll think you're lighting a camp fire and end up setting an entire forest ablaze."

* * *

"Why does she frighten you?"

"She took away my ability to waterbend."

"If you allow her to make it that easy to defeat you, you've no one but yourself to blame."

* * *

"You're a fool. Even your precious Aang uses a weapon."

"It's a glider staff!"

"It's a weapon."

* * *

She argued: "You're a firebender, you can't form your element like I can. Why do I need a sword when I can _make_ a sword?"

He dismissed her, "Even if you made a sword of ice, you wouldn't know how to use it. Everything you do is wrapped up in your instincts and your perception about water; your head is too full of what you _could_ do that you never learn to utilise and understand one aspect of it at a time. I blame your teacher."

"Pakku was a greater bender than you'll ever be---"

"I suppose that's possible."

"---and a finer teacher than you've ever known in your entire spoiled childhood!"

"If he wasn't teaching you even the most basic weaponry or hand-to-hand combat to compliment your bending, then he isn't worth that praise."

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Is that so? Let me see if I can't guess how it went: you taught yourself the basics and when you got to the North Pole you had, what, two months? Two and a half? Your mater Pakku knew you'd be leaving after a limited time period, so he accelerated your training. He filled in the gaps of rudimentry bending and he refined your stances. He saw that you learned unusually fast so he taught you more and more techniques: each skill more complicated than the last. He advised you on how to make up your own techniques, and warned you against the common mistakes. Then, because you're incredibly strong and because you can perform higher-level techniques well enough to teach the Avatar, he called you a master and sent you on your way."

"You're trying to make me doubt myself. It won't work."

"He cheated you, Katara. _He cheated you_. I'd bet you a gemstone from the royal treasury that your precious teacher knows how to use a boomerang, a machete, daggers--probably even a fan--with as much skill as any warrior in his tribe. He didn't think you had time to learn handweapons on top of waterbending so he tried to show you everything he could in the hope that you'd pass it on to the Avatar. It was wrong of him, even if he was only your master short for time. He should have been teaching you weapons combat at the same time as waterbending, or at least had someone else do it."

"You don't know anything about Master Pakku."

"I know he was a fool to let you think that bending on its own was enough to face the horror of battle."

* * *

"Either you're a fighter or you're not, Katara."

"I'm a _fighter_," she hissed, remembering the kind wrinkles in Yagoda's face and the crack of Pakku's bony knuckles.

"Then pick up the dagger and learn to fight. Bending is a tool, Katara. Just a tool."

* * *

He started her on knives: "You already know the movements from waterbending, now you need to learn to respect your limitations--and use them."

A staff was next; he made her use her own ice and although her bare hands burned from the cold and slipped on the surface he turned back her indignant questions with answers from grissly to practical. "Sometimes if you impale your enemy on your spear his blood will coat the wood and make it too slick to hold. Get used to the difficult grip now and you'll be better prepared in the future."

* * *

Note: this is some bizarre


	38. Missing Scene

**Crossroads of Destiny: Missing Scene**

**  
**

_--struck down by censors on account of its shocking out-of-character behavior and unrealistic dialogue, it  
has been secretly smuggled out of the company studio and is retained here in all its original glory--_

* * *

"We've been buried in this cave for two days now, peasant. You can't possibly understand how bored I am."  
"I think I can work up a picture of how bored you are. A pretty specific picture, actually."  
"So you're bored too."  
"Of course I'm bored, stupid!"  
"Don't you dare insult me, stupid little girl!"  
"Stupid little boy!"  
"Shut up!"  
"You shut up!"  
"Well fine, if you're so bored, I have an idea!"  
"...Oh. What?"  
"I'm a virgin. You're a virgin. We're stuck down here with no one around. We're probably going to die anyway. We could make the most of it."  
"That's disgusting."  
"Come on, like you'll ever get the chance again for the next three or four years, the way your group scampers about the globe."  
"You just don't want to die knowing that your vindictive sister knows you died a virgin. Nice try. Besides, I'm too pretty for you."  
"No you're not. I have a very pretty body. And you don't want to die a virgin either. You're thinking about it. "  
"I'm not."  
"Yes you are."  
"Okay _maybe _I am, but only because you brought it up!"  
"Well?"  
"Well what?"  
"Well?"  
"...Okay."

_[insert amateur porn here_

_[camera now shows Zuko and Katara, lying naked next to each other on the floor of the cave and breathing heavily_

"Huh."  
"That was... interesting."  
"Wanna try again?"  
"Do you see anyone coming to save us?"  
"...No. ...Cave seems intact."  
"Yeah, alright."

_[Fade to black_


	39. EndBegin

Spoilers: **3x12** (so very very slight!) I'm unspoiled for anything else, so please keep your reviews clean!

Comments: So, last week **irrel** did this amazingly pretty K/Z fanart "Ends", remember it? And she had a little prompt at the end asking for people to write a continuation of the scene, and some talented people did. I didn't see the request prompt until tonight so I'm kinda late in bringing the drabble goodness, but better late than never, right? If you can, **look at the fan art before reading this**. The clothes in the image are important to the drabble, and it will make more sense if you see the image first.

**the art:** "**irrel**" at DevArt, deviation #83878503

******irrel**'s prompt: _"Also, I have no idea what is happening here. I imagined that it's after the war, Katara and Zuko are saying goodbye, going their separate ways and then..._

* * *

**End/Begin**

"Wait," Prince Zuko snapped, too sharp and too formal. The ancient uniform, drenched in sable and stiff with gilded brass, had robbed his voice of its empathy and the hand on her arm of gentleness. Katara turned with slow precision, aware of the way his fingers pressed at the inside of her elbow and the delicate, invisible tremor of his wrist.

"Yes?" she said archly, and Zuko dropped his hand instantly. His neck flushed.

"This isn't right."

"What?" asked Katara, holding her chin high because the lace of her collar itched if she didn't, and the silk, laden with priceless embroidery, deserved a bearer who wouldn't be ruffled, even in front of a prince. It draped from shoulder to ankle, and Katara knew the sky-colored threads held every ounce the power of a dragon suit of armor.

"This... this!" said Zuko, flicking his hand at the columns, the colors, the distance between them that would only grow. "Katara."

He squared his shoulders, and bowed with one hand against his stomach, the other behind him in perfect form. It was not how he bowed to Aang, or to Toph. It was not how he'd bowed to Katara in the past after a scrimmage. Without a pause Zuko rose again, then stepped forward until he was close enough to push the dark strands of hair from her eyes.

"Katara," he said with the same formality, but this time time with fingertips ghosting the edges of her face.

"Yes?" she repeated, holding still because Zuko's face had transformed into the expression he always wore when the future was laid out before him, as manifest as a painting or a feast or a scroll of secrets. He'd worn this face at the Western Temple when he spoke to Aang about fire and fathers and destiny, and he'd worn it the night below Ba Sing Se when he knew who he was and what he was prepared to do.

For all his confusion and indecisiveness, Prince Zuko was gifted with moments of great clarity and purpose--true flashes of transcendence--and Katara had always envied him for it. She envied him now, as he looked into her eyes and prepared to speak.

"I care for you. I... I love you. I _love_ you."


	40. I Love You Like A Ruin

Rating: T  
Warning: morbid, macabre, sad

On request: what happens after "Blackheart" (Chapter 11). "Blackheart" was written between season 1 and 2 and so it would now be considered an AU. A very **_dark_ **AU.

This fic will make no sense if you haven't read Chapter 11.

Soundtrack:

"Hit So Hard" - Hole  
"Razor Valentine" - Thea Gilmore

* * *

_Put me up above the boy  
The one I love I should destroy  
My sweet tooth has burned a hole  
Forget about it all_

_He's so candy, my downfall  
Melts in my mouth till he's nothing at all  
This keeps me, I can't sleep  
He rages to be true_

_He hit so hard  
I saw stars  
He hit so hard  
I saw God_

* * *

**I Love You Like A Ruin**

Katara. Katara. Katara.

Katara, pick up your canteen. We won.

Katara, let go of his arm.

Katara, there's blood on your face.

Katara, it's over. You did it. It's done.

Katara. Katara. Katara, you had no choice.

She blinks, then, and looks up into the chief's face. Her father's face. The empty limbs, the shell, is still on the ground. She's pulled it into her lap, and she's holding onto a hand, and dust is dancing in the sun before her eyes.

"But I did," she says. She brings her palm up, wipes her cheek. "I knew exactly what I was doing."

The chief is watching her, and there's a tear worming down one side of his expression. He looks like he's ready to gather her in warmth and safety, but the only thing she can cling to is the sunken weight that sprawls across her legs and stomach. Blood has already soaked through red armor and blue leather. Down, down, down into the creases of her knees.

"He let Sokka die."

She can smell fire. She can smell human waste and sanguine earth. She can smell the cinnamon and coca draught he once confessed to swilling, always before a fight.

"He let Sokka be killed, right in front of him. I had to be the one, for Sokka. I chose to be the one. We...we."

"Oh _ love_, I know." Hakoda reaches to brush a braid behind her ear, but she doesn't feel the contact. She bends her head, and lets her cheek rest against wet, matted black hair.

"I want to go home, Dad."

So the chief unravels her arms, and untangles her fingers from the fingers of the dead, and pulls her up into warmth and safety. "We'll go home, love. At last we can go home."

And the shell is left where Katara let it fall, hollow and free.


	41. Across the Universe

Quick challenge drabbles! The next four or five of these were done for prompts given by katarazuko LJ comm members when I asked for writing practice.

**Challenge: **Katara, Zuko, Western Air Temple, Mud.

* * *

**Across the Universe**

Two bodies sprawled across the mosaic of heaven and earth. A trail of slime and mud snaked from their forms toward the pile of collapsed soil that had been an empty bath for a century before Katara found it. That was hours ago, and the events that led to their present state would have baffled even the Avatar.

Their muscles ached, their bodies were bruised, and they were were covered in heavy, black mud from in-step to eyelash.

"What are you doing?" Katara asked, too exhausted to bat away the tickle of Zuko's finger tip across her arm.

"I'm reverse-drawing on you. You have freckes. I can connect them with lines in the mud."

"They're dirt stains. I can't have freckles. I live in the snow."

"That's what a month in the Fire Nation will do for you."

"Give me spots?"

"They're not spots." His voice was drifting away, to some place defined by years of distance, and he spoke as if reciting a lesson. "They're kisses from the sun."


	42. Citadel

Quick challenge drabbles!

(mood music by Anna Nalick)

**Challenge: **Zuko about Katara, during his balloon ride.

* * *

**Citadel**

While the balloon carried him closer to the Avatar, Zuko's mind was busy with the math of negotiation. He pictured each of Aangs followers, and in his mind he built a map of their reactions. Who would say yes, who would say no, and who would fight the longest.

But the last was easy--Zuko knew, without giving it any thought at all, that the waterbender named Katara would be the hardest won. It wouldn't matter that Aang had been hurt more than anyone by Zuko's behavior, or that Zuko's sister had done spirits-knew-what to the other boy's girlfriend, or that the Earth Kingdom children had lost whole villages to the invasion. They would realize the practically and value of his alliance, and eventually they would accept him as Aang's teacher. All of that anger would be suppressed for the sake of the future and the war, and though it made him sick inside he knew he had to play on their needs before they gave him a chance.

But that would not work with her. Zuko knew it because he knew the kind of fighter she was. For the waterbender named Katara, all it would come down to, in the end, was the fact that she had touched his scar and offered him the most amazing thing he'd ever been given, and he had turned his fire on her.


	43. Muzzle

Quick challenge drabbles!

**Mood music & story title: **The Smashing Pumpkins

**Challenge: **Katara, Mai, the Fire Nation, sometime after the war. Zutara.

NOTE: **DO NOT SPOIL ME IN REVIEWS**, THIS IS ENTIRELY SPECULATIVE AND HYPOTHETICAL. I HAVEN'T SEEN PAST 3x13! That being said, reviews are read and appreciated.

* * *

**Muzzle**

A single shining needle pierced the painted wood. As it quivered from the violence of impact, a drop of liquid began to collect where it met the target's red surface.

Katara nodded, satisfied, and stepped to the left. Mai took her place, eyes forward without a glance at the darker girl. She crossed her arms and examined the melting ice dart.

"You have strong wrists," she said. "But your aim is...regretful."

"It's not _that_ bad."

"It's mediocre at best. Amateur at worst. If you pamper yourself with platitudes, you'll never get better."

"I'm not the one who grew up pampered."

This got a hit, and Mai's eyes slid over to stab at Katara's. "How you're brought up has nothing to do with your talent. You don't have what it takes. Go home."

Katara popped her wrists, a noise so obnoxious it would have made Sokka proud. "I'm not going anywhere, Mai."


	44. We Write the Things that We Can't Say

NOTE: **DO NOT SPOIL ME IN REVIEWS**. I HAVEN'T SEEN PAST 3x13! That being said, reviews are read and appreciated.

Quick challenge drabbles!

**Challenge: **Zuko missing his mother, Katara comforting him and wishing that hers was still alive...

* * *

**We Write the Things that We Can't Say**

When Katara found the poem tucked between two shirts in the laundry pile, she felt guilty for reading it.

When she handed it to him--and it had to be _him_, because Sokka didn't write poetry except to impress Earth Kingdom girls--she apologized in advance, and mumbled that it was good, and tried to pretend it wasn't creased from all the times she'd held it up to the candlelight to read.

Zuko took it silently, awkwardly, but when she said it reminded her of her mother, he nodded and, at last, met her gaze. "Thank you."

"I hope she's out there for you. I hope you can give this to her."

"I wasn't going to... I wasn't planning to show it to anyone."

"Well you should," Katara commanded. She crossed her arms, and stood with her back too straight, but there was a bright sheen in her eyes. "When you find her, you should give her the poem."

"Okay," said Zuko. He tucked the slip of paper into his belt, and tried not to break Katara's stare. "I will."


	45. Interrogation

NOTE: **DO NOT SPOIL ME IN REVIEWS**. I HAVEN'T SEEN PAST 3x13! That being said, reviews are read and appreciated.

Quick challenge drabbles!

**Challenge: **Zuko & Toph, in a dark room, talking Zutara.

* * *

**Interrogation  
**

"Oh please, Sunshine, you've never thought about it at all?"

"I don't see why you care about this so much."

"Because you haven't answered my question."

Toph and Zuko, enemies by blood and friends by nature, sat shoulder to shoulder against a wooden door, waiting. Their arms were filled with loot: maps, small weapons, money, food. They sad with their plundered goods resting across bent knees, ready to spring into action at the slightest sound of pursuit.

There were no lights, and there would be no people for hours, and Toph was the kind of person who'd rather interrogate someone than have a nap. She was quite indiscreetly poking Zuko with her elbow, making it impossible for him to nap, either.

"You know, it's been so long, I've forgotten what you asked."

"Sure... I know when you're lying, and I know when you're awake, Zuko."

"Ask me again."

"Have you ever thought about Katara _that_ way?"

"What way?"

"Like you like her, that kind of way."

"Yes. I like Katara."

"But do you _like_ like her?"

"I'm sorry, Toph, but you're going to have to be clearer."

"You're trying to be dense, Sunshine. It doesn't work on me."

"And if _you_ don't say what you mean, you won't get a real answer."

"Okay, smart boy," Toph growled in the dark. She said in a loud stage whisper, "Do you want to fuck Katara?"

"Shit, Toph!" Zuko jerked half-way to his knees and banged his head on the solid oak behind him. "How do you even know that word?"

Toph laughed, gleeful at his reaction. "I'm the Blind Bandit, champion of the Earth Rumble. You think I haven't heard even worse?"

"You're twelve." Scowling under the cover of darkness, Zuko settled back against the door, nursing his skull. "Happy now that you've had your fun?"

"No. You didn't answer the question."

"You may be jaded and mature for a twelve year old girl, but I'm not, so we're not having this conversation."

"Okay, fine," Toph gave up. Mostly. "I'll just be paying _real_ close attention when we get to the rendezvous point."

"Is that so?"

"Oh yeah. Because if you weren't thinking about it then, you will be when you see her next, and then I'll have my answer anyway."

"Toph?"

"Yeah?"

"Fuck you."

Toph just giggled, and poked him again with her elbow. "If you don't like it, Sunshine, don't say it."

"I don't believe this."

"I haven't even started making you miserable yet."

"You're a pox on sanity."

"And to think, we could be here for _hours._ "


	46. Competition

**Notes: **It's amazing how many fanfic bits and pieces and unfinished stuff I have lying around on LJ. I keep finding them! So I might as well add them to my never-ending collection here.**  
**

**Spoilers:** none, set in hypothetical Zuko-joins-gaang future, written way back in season 2. I was really into Dancing With The Stars. Still kinda am.

**Rating:** G

**Summary:** _Obligatory Z/K dancing fic. Mild Taang and even milder Kataang for spice._

* * *

**Abandonned Fic: The Competition**

Dance? Of course he could dance. It amazed Zuko how this lot was so quick to blame him for being a prince and simultaneously incapable of remembering that he actually was one.

"I bet you can't."

That wasn't even worth a reply. Most of the things that came out of Sokka's mouth weren't.

"I think you're too pigchicken to show us because you probably are terrible at it."

Did the idiot honestly think that tactic would work? Unlike some members of their group, Zuko was not twelve anymore.

"Hey. Grumpy Boots. I'll bet you a week's worth of dishwashing duty that I can outdance you."

But Toph _was_, and yet here she was also the first person to say anything interesting. A week's worth of dishes as collateral? He was willing to dance for that. The blind kid might even be an interesting opponent. At least she would probably know what she was doing.

"I thought that would get your attention. Alright, Twinkletoes, step up!"

A good choice. Zuko approved.

"What am I, chopped seal meat?"

Being well-raised, he was above replying that chopped seal meat was exactly what Sokka was. Even still, it was tough.

"Aang's naturally graceful, you're not."

That's what Zuko liked about Toph; she didn't mince words.

"Got my partner, Princey. It's two water siblings to you."

Her sense of humor wasn't bad, either.

"What? No way! Hey, Zuko, NO WAY. Are you listening? NOT A CHANCE."

For a moment Zuko genuinely considered picking Sokka just to torture him. Having been formally trained in dancing since childhood Zuko was used to practicing with other male students if there were no female partners available, and when he was younger he'd danced a few times on the ship at music night. Zuko didn't think Sokka would be nearly so accomodating, and torturing the other boy for an entire dance with the promise of mocking at any and every later date was almost as appealing as getting out of dish duty.

Almost.

"What? Hey, don't drag me into your little competition!"

The waterbender was more graceful anyway. Better to dance with, and despite the appeal of Sokka's misery, if Zuko was going to dance he was going to make sure he got what little enjoyment out of it he could. That meant a partner who was comfortable in their own feet. A bender, better. A bender with female-shaped curves to rest his hands against while dancing: best.

"Why don't you and Toph just dance?"

That wouldn't be a competition, of course. And Zuko wanted out of doing the dishes.

"It could still be a competition."

Was the waterbender always this dense and he had never noticed? He wasn't going to dance with a child. At least not any kind of dance that would win a competition.

"Why not? Because she's only half your height?" Zuko waited for the rest of her thought process to kick in. "...Oh. Right."

"Hey, _hey_, I don't like the sound of that."

And he didn't like the sound of Sokka trying to use up brain cells, but did he mention it? No. Well, not nearly as often as he was tempted to.

"That sounds suspicious. What kind of dance are you talking about that you don't want to 'dance' with a little kid? Katara _is_ a kid."

Zuko was spared having to answer this because Katara took offense first.

"I'm _not_ a child! I can dance with whoever I choose! And I'm going to dance with Zuko, and we're going to win, and we're BOTH going to get out of dish duty, and you can just close your gills about it Sokka!"

That's what Zuko liked about Katara; she refused to let anyone control her. He admired her vehemence while often trying to figure out ways around it. The best way, he'd found, was to let her temper do the work for him. Deep down he had an inkling that his uncle had been using the same tactic on himself for years; Zuko just hoped the old man would be proud that he'd picked up one of his habits.

"So it's settled then! Katara and Zuko against me and Twinkletoes."

During the stare-down that accompanied this declaration Katara's hand had found its way into his, as if their new partnership in this economic venture (because Zuko really hated dishes, really hated them) was something to be confirmed by excessive and unnecessary hand touching. Hand touching to counter and exceed the similar hand touching Toph was forcing on Aang.

The Avatar seemed perfectly cheerful holding hands, though, which meant Katara was now gripping Zuko's like a vice. He moved his wrist ever so slightly. The waterbender held on. Clearly he wasn't the only one Toph was trying to compete with.

Or perhaps Toph had never been interested in competing with Zuko at all. Clever kid. He'd walked right into it for the price of petty chore work. Katara, for less.

A true competition it would be, then. Which meant they would need a few hours for Katara to practice.

"Two hours ought to be enough. You better hope Sugar Queen doesn't make you trip any more than you would already."

Katara's hand over his suddenly got a whole lot tighter.

"Oh don't you worry about me, Toph. Zuko and I are going to dance circles around you."

Zuko knew _he_ was going to dance circles around them. He wasn't sure about Katara. A lot of practice was going to be necessary. A lot of practice while standing very close to the waterbending girl. It was a better way to spend an afternoon than playing teacher with the Avatar, at least.

"You're on, Water Tribe! Two hours from now we meet back here. Being late is a forfeit!"

Zuko had no intention of being late, and from the way Katara was dragging him across the campsite it was clear that she had no plans to lose.

He was kind of looking forward to it.

* * *


	47. Untitled Adventure Fic

**Spoilers:** none beyond general season 3, written before the finale, with the idea that Iroh is FL and Zuko is a sort of agent of the throne.

**Notes:** A while ago I started an action fic where Zuko and Katara meet up after about 5 or 6 years and fight crime have an adventure. I wrote the scene for how they meet up, and I thought I'd share it with you, even though there probably won't be any more of it. I want to write something that has Zuko and Katara as adults, has a more adventury plot, and lighter-hearted writing.

This scene occurs a few chapters into the story, and is their "reunion" scene.

* * *

_ **quickset up:** Zuko is undercover working as a guard/animal wrangler for the rich mayor of a Fire Nation village. Katara, while visiting the town, recognized him at guard duty, snuck up behind him, and hooked him wickedly under the knee with her boot. They haven't seen each other in over five years._

* * *

**Abandoned Fic: Untitled Adventure Fic**

Light and dark swirled, blurred, and finally coalesced into a dark blob that eclipsed the noon sun. The blob spoke; it had a female voice, and it sounded annoyed with him.

"That always was your problem, _Li._ You're so focused on what's in front of you that you don't _pay attention_."

"Errrgh," groaned Zuko. He blinked several times.

"I bet you thought you could get away with it, didn't you, _Li_," the blob said. It was starting to sound familiar to Zuko, but in a way he found hard to discern. Like a voice he _did_ know, but distorted through two tin cups, a string, and a child's faith in the magic of _Of course it doesn't make sense to you, you're only six years old, but I'm your tutor and it works because I am telling you it does, and stop unravelling that string!_

Zuko wasn't getting up, so Tamu crouched beside his partner. "I thought your name was Lu Kai?"

"It is," Zuko said, trying to lift his knee then thinking better of it. The back of his head had molded to the cobblestones.

"So why is she calling you Li?" Tamu was a trusting soul, a rare and usually short-lived trait in a soldier, but he managed a convincing _tone_ with the question.

"She thinks that's my name."

"I can hear that," said Tamu. "If your name is Lu Kai, why'd you tell her it was Li?"

"Yes," said the female voice, which had finally attached itself to a pretty, sun-darkened face that was still intent on looming over him. "Why _did_ you tell me your name was _Li_?"

Zuko waved his gloved hand to shoo her away, and hauled himself into sitting position. He waited for the buildings to slow down, then squinted at Tamu's expectant face. He was terrible at this sort of improvised acting, and _she_ knew it. This morning was already a bad one, and now that Zuko's addled brain had finally placed the woman's voice he was less than happy with her "traditional" greeting. He knew that he was losing, but he rallied.

"What, you've never lied to a woman before?" he snapped at Tamu.

"I don't usually lie about my _name_," the other guard said. He added, glancing at the heavily booted feet of the nearest representative, "I mean, not that I lie to women regularly or anything. I was raised to always respect a lady."

"If only all men had your upbringing," said Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, arms crossed.

"What do you want?" Zuko asked her, one hand rubbing his knee and the other feeling his scalp for permanent damage.

"Now that we've said hello, Li or Lu Kai or whatever your name is, be aware that you and I are going to have a little chat after your shift ends. You tried to run off with my sister Kisu, and I _bet_ you thought you'd never see us again, didn't you?" Katara did not have Zuko's handicap when it came to on-the-spot dishonesty.

"Whatever," said Zuko-Li-Lu Kai. "I'm at work right now."

The waterbender raised her chin as high and mighty as she could, and nodded at Tamu. "I've no desire to interfere with your guard duties, sir, so I will leave this putrid waste of a uniform in your care, and resolve this at a later time." She adjusted her wide-brimmed straw hat, twirled on her heel, and marched down the street in the direction of the market.

Tamu helped his partner stand up. "You tried to run off with her sister?"

Zuko grunted. Tamu shamelessly watched Katara's retreating walk.

"Must be some sister."

* * *

For the sake of your information, Katara isn't really mad. She was just trying to get him alone to talk, and having fun with messing with him at the same time.


	48. Tea and Sympathy

The incomparable **AvocadoLove** has a story called "One" here at the Pit; its story ID is "4356911". It's a splendid gen one-shot, and should be read prior to this chapter.

This is an unofficial sequel to that ficlet, written in the "What Comes After" zutara challenge a few years ago. I took her dark little Zuko AU and gave it a dose of Zutara in the sequel/re-interpretation, but AvocadoLove said she enjoyed it, so I'm happy to present it to you, my readers!

It's been a while since I posted ATLA fic, I know. I may do more in the future, I still love this fandom.

**Pretty Music Accompaniment: **Greg Laswell - Comes and Goes (In Waves)

* * *

**.**

**Tea and Sympathy**

This one's for the torn down, the experts at the fall  
Come on friends get up now, you're not alone at all

Tea settles in Zuko's mouth and slides down his throat, tingling and burning on its way. Over his teacup he watches Lyrna rotate leaves in the air, one above each fingertip. She moves them first clockwise and then counter, never letting one get low enough to touch her hand or high enough to be caught by the real wind. It's a small game, probably something Sokka or Katara taught her as a concentration tool, but the flickering swaths of green and brown mesmerize the prince.

"That's beautiful," he says. He folds his legs and settles down to watch.

"Oh, I can do more!" the child assures him. The leaves begin to spin faster, each held in place by its own miniature tornado, until she flings her hand upward and they sail into a glorious arc, circling Zuko and then herself before settling back in her tiny palm. She holds them out to him, and Zuko looks at his own hand. It's larger than he remembers, with nicks and scars he can only see now that he's resting in the sunlight. He folds his fingers in and shakes his head.

"No thank you. I apologize for interrupting your training. You are truly talented."

Lyrna's shoulders slump, and she puffs out her lip. "That's what Mom always says. She thinks that if I don't practice, I won't be as talented as I need to be. So I'm always bending, even when I'm in trouble."

Zuko sets the tea cup beside his knees and eyes the Avatar. "Your mother?"

Lyrna points, and they both look at a woman standing near the campfire with a map spread across her knees. It is Katara, and he can still see the water tribe emblem where her hair wraps behind her neck.

Leaning close to Zuko's ear, Lyrna whispers, "If I'm mad, I call her Katara. She hates that."

Zuko abandons his examination of the woman he'd known so long ago. When he speaks to the child at his side, he is careful not to scold her, only to suggest. "You should honor your parents. You owe your mother your respect."

Lyrna looks everywhere but at him, and in profile he's struck by what a lovely child she is. Her face is more angular at seven than Katara's was at fourteen, and her eyebrows are high and narrow. Yet that dark pout she indulges is familiar almost beyond his comprehension. It's been so long, so very long, since he has seen it.

At last she mutters, "Okay. Fine."

"And your father?" Zuko asks as gently as he can, but Lyrna's eyes still wilt at the corners. Without saying anything, she snatches up his tea cup and scampers back toward the supply pile.

Zuko sighs, and hobbles to his feet. When he reaches the fire Katara's already gathered a blanket, and when he sits on a large rock she hastily tries to wrap it around him.

"Thank you."

She moves guiltily, as if regretful that this is all she can give him, but he smiles at her and she relaxes a fraction. Sitting together, they stare at the map of the Earth Kingdom. Eventually, Zuko points a finger at a dark area to the West, covered with squiggles and a deft sketch of a tree.

Katara laughs a bit, and it's hard to believe it's the laugh of a girl barely into her twenties. Up close, she sounds so much older than he could have imagined.

"You were always good at guessing our destination before we'd even decided on it."

With a shrug, Zuko says, "If you want to take me somewhere to hide for a while without endangering your operation, the Great Swamp is one of the most remote and unappealing. Azula would scour the desert and the ocean three times over before looking there."

"You're right." She rolls up the map and stuffs it into a wooden tube that's packed with others of the same. "You'll be ready to travel the day after tomorrow."

"I don't feel ready," he admits, but Katara pats his shoulder with a light touch.

"Don't worry about it now. With Lyrna's waterbending and mine combined, you'll be ready."

"She can heal, just like you can?"

The waterbending master is proud when she nods, and the emotion glows from her. "I was young when I had Lyrna-very young-and we had no idea she'd be the Avatar until nearly two years later. All that time we'd been keeping her secret for fear of the headhunters after Sokka, Toph, and myself; turns out it was a good thing we did."

Katara's gaze returns to the fire, but she reaches out to take Zuko's hand in her own. Her fingers pass over the indents and scars as if they aren't there. "One day, on the way out of a town marketplace near Omashu, Lyrna burped fire then immediately sneezed so hard she blew me off my feet. She gets allergies pretty bad in the spring."

Although he feels the flames off to his right, whispering and humming sparks like an old friend, Zuko can't lift his gaze from Katara's profile. He is measuring her features with his eyes, embedding every detail in his memory and trying desperately to recall the girl from eight years before. Like the fire, her hand over his is warm and familiar.

"My uncle and my father got horrible allergies in the first few months of spring," he says at last. "My grandmother and I were spared, but I think Lyrna's going to have to get used it."

"Yes," says Katara, and gives his hand a squeeze.


End file.
